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ENGLISH    METRES 


BY 

WILLIAM  STRUNK,  Jr. 

Professor  of  English 
Cornell  University 


Cornell  Co-Operative  Society 

Ithaca,  New  York 

1922 


ENGLISH    METRES 


BY 

WILLIAM  STRUNK,  Jr. 

Professor  of  English 
Cornell  University 


Cornell  Co-Operative  Society 

Ithaca.  New  York 

1922 


Copyright 

1922 

By  William  Strunk,  Jr. 


PRESS  OF  W  F.  HUMPHBEY,  GENEVA,  N.  Y. 


^^"^^^ 


CONTENTS  S^  J 

Chapter  I:      The  Nature  of  Verse 7 

Chapter  II:     Metrical  and  Free  Verse 13 

Chapter  III:  The  Line  and  the  Foot 17 

Basic  Feet 20 

Number  of  Feet 24 

Excess  and  Defect 24 

Substitutions 26 

The  Caesura 30 

Final  Stress 31 

Final  Pause 32 

Chapter  IV:  Rhyme 33 

Chapter  V:    The  Chief  Metres  of  EngUsh  Verse 38 

Continuous  Metres 

Iambic  Tetrameter  Couplet 38 

Trochaic  Tetrameter  Couplet 39 

Iambic  Pentameter  Couplet  (Heroic  Couplet)  39 

Blank  Verse 40 

Dactylic  Hexameter 45 

Terza  Rima 46 

Stanzas 

The  Ballad  Stanza 47 

Iambic  Tetrameter  Quatrains 47 

Iambic  Pentameter  Quatrains 47 

Ottava  Rima 48 

The  Spenserian  Stanza 49 

The  Pindaric  Ode 50 

The  Sonnet 50 

Chapter  VI :  Relations  between  Sound  and  Sense 54 

Exercises 60 

3 

56  i  Oi  • 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/englishmetresOOstrurich 

I 


PREFACE 

The  aim  of  this  book  is  to  provide  a  brief  explanation 
of  the  nature  of  EngUsh  verse  and  of  the  means  used  to 
analyze  and  describe  it,  together  with  a  description  and 
history  of  the  more  frequent  metrical  forms.  The  ex- 
amples are  for  the  greater  part  from  poems  common- 
ly studied  in  courses  in  English  and  American  literature. 
It  has  seemed  best  to  recognize  that  many  points  in  met- 
rical theory  are  still  debatable.  The  method  of  marking 
scansion  that  has  been  employed  is,  of  course,  only  one 
of  many,  but  is  that  which,  on  the  whole,  most  commends 
itself  to  the  writer.  For  further  study  are  recommended 
R.  M.  Alden,  English  Verse;  C.  F.  Andrews,  The  Writing 
and  Reading  of  Verse;  Robert  Bridges,  Milton's  Prosody; 
C.  F.  Jacob,  The  Foundation  and  Nature  of  Verse:  T.  S. 
Omond,  English  Metrists.  The  work  last  mentioned 
gives  a  complete  history  of  the  subject,  with  full  bibliog- 
raphy. To  these  works  the  writer  wishes  to  record  his 
obligations.  He  takes  this  occasion  to  express  his  thanks 
to  his  colleagues  Professors  Martin  Sampson,  F.  C.  Pres- 
cott,  and  F.  E.  Fiske,  for  helpful  comments  on  his  manu- 
script, and  Mr.  J.  H.  Nelson,  for  assistance  in  reading  the 
proof. 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  NATURE  OP  VERSE 

The  word  verse  will  be  used  in  the  following  pages  in 
the  meaning  of  rhythmically  organized  language,  the 
kind  of  language  in  which  poetry  is  written.  To  avoid 
confusion,  the  word  will  not  be  used  in  the  meaning  of 
line  or  of  stanza.  The  study  of  verse  is  essentially  the 
study  of  the  sound  of  poetry,  not  in  utter  disregard  of 
the  sense,  but  at  least  a  study  radically  diflFerent  from 
the  study  of  the  ideas  or  the  imagery  or  the  diction. 

The  study  of  the  sound  of  verse  cannot,  of  course, 
wholly  disregard  the  sense,  because  the  sound  and  the 
sense  are  inseparably  connected.  In  verse,  as  in  prose, 
the  position  of  the  pauses  between  words,  the  relative 
emphasis  of  different  syllables,  the  speed  or  slowness 
with  which  a  passage  is  read,  though  allowing  of  a  certain 
amount  of  variation,  are  all  determined  or  influenced  by 
the  sense.  In  verse,  far  more  than  in  prose,  the  choice 
of  words,  and  consequently  the  shade  of  meaning  con- 
veyed, is  in  part  determined  by  considerations  of  sound. 
Purther,  as  will  be  explained  and  illustrated  later,  in 
verse  we  often  find  correspondences  of  another  kind 
between  sense  and  sound:  lines  and  groups  of  lines  which 
correspond  to  each  other  in  a  metrical  pattern  are  often 
paralleled  or  contrasted  in  sense. 

Verse  is  often  spoken  of  as  rhyme,  sometimes  in  dis- 
paragement, as  if  it  were  nothing  but  the  matching  of 
syllables,  sometimes  in  poetic  language,  as  when  Milton 
says. 

Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme. 

But  while  this  use  of  the  term  rhyme  for  verse  is 
evidence  that  rhyme  is  ordinarily  a  conspicuous  element 

7 


in  the  verse  in  which  it  occurs,  it  is  not  essential  to  verse. 
Classical  Greek  and  Latin  verse  was  without  rhyme, 
and  unrhymed  verse  is  common  in  English  and  in  many 
other  modern  languages.  An  examination  of  rhymed 
verse  will  show  that  its  effect,  which  we  uncritically 
assume  to  be  due  solely  to  the  presence  of  rhyme,  is  in 
reality  produced  by  several  factors.  The  syllables  that 
rhyme  bear  stress,  and  they  occur  at  more  or  less  regular 
intervals  of  time.  This  is  as  apparent  in  a  nursery 
jingle  like  **Tom,  Tom,  the  piper's  son"  as  in  a  poem  of 
lofty  sentiment  and  diction  like  Lycidas.  Nor  are  the 
rhyming  words  likely  to  be  the  only  ones  that  have  been 
selected  with  regard  to  their  sound.  In  the  aforesaid 
"Tom,  Tom,"  there  is  a  reason  for  its  being  a  pig  that 
the  piper's  son  stole:  piper  and  pig  begin  with  the  same 
sound.  We  feel  a  certain  appropriateness  that  would 
have  been  absent  if  he  had  stolen,  say,  a  sheep.  There 
is  also  a  reason  for  his  roaring  instead  of  howling  or  cry- 
ing: run  and  roar  begin  with  the  same  sound. 

In  unrhymed  verse,  the  same  elements  are  present: 
certain  syllables  are  through  stress  more  prominent  than 
others  and  occur  at  more  or  less  regular  intervals  of  time; 
words  are  chosen  and  grouped  together,  not  merely  for 
their  meaning  and  associations,  but  in  part  for  their  sound. 

These  two  elements  of  verse  will  in  this  discussion  be 
called  rhythm  and  harmony. 

The  term  rhythm,  in  a  broad  sense,  is  applicable  to  any 
wave-like  progression,  one  which  rises  and  falls  recurrent- 
ly. It  is  an  essential  element  in  music,  in  dancing,  in 
anything  that,  as  we  say,  has  a  swing  to  it.  Indeed,  there 
is  little  doubt  that  poetry,  music,  and  the  dance  had  a 
common  origin  in  the  expression  of  emotion  through 
rhythm.  In  early  stages  of  culture  the  three  are  prac- 
ticed together.  Song  without  dancing,  verse  not  in- 
tended for  singing,  are  later  developments.  But  through 
all,  verse  remains,  in  literature,  preeminently  the  lan- 

8 


guage  of  the  emotions,  and  for  that  reason  is  characterized 
by  rhythm.  It  is  thus,  at  any  rate,  that  we  ordinarily 
distinguish  verse  from  prose.  It  is  difficult  to  draw  the 
line  where  rhythm  begins  and  ends,  because  of  the  "sense 
of  rhythm"  which  enables  most  persons  to  feel  or  imagine 
the  presence  of  rhythm  even  in  a  mechanically  regular 
series  of  sounds,  such  as  a  perfectly  uniform  series  of 
tickings  of  a  clock,  and  enables  some  to  feel  or  imagine  its 
presence  in  what  to  others  would  be  a  wholly  random  and 
unorganized  series.  Prose  may  be  rhythmical  as  well 
as  verse;  doubtless  some  readers  feel  the  presence  of 
rhythm  in  all  prose.  But  verse  differs  from  prose  in  that 
its  rhythm  is  more  constant,  more  uniform,  and  more 
significant. 

As  it  appears  in  verse,  rhythm  may  be  defined  as  the 
arrangement  of  syllables  in  groups  based  on  their  varying 
intensity  and  tending  to  require  the  same  time  for  pro- 
nunciation. The  pattern  of  the  groups  may  be  exactly 
the  same,  as  in  the  line. 

And  now  they  never  meet    in  grove  or  green, 

which  may  be  regarded  as  made  up  of  five  groups  of  two 
syllables  each,  unstressed  followed  by  stressed,  each 
group  taking  substantially  the  same  time  to  pronounce. 
Or  there  may  be  variations:  in  one  or  more  groups  the 
stressed  and  unstressed  syllables  may  change  places;  three 
syllables  may  take  the  place  of  two;  these  and  other 
variations  may  be  so  numerous  as  to  make  the  line  depart 
widely  from  the  basic  rhythm.  To  illustrate  the  possibil- 
ities of  variation  (in  a  different  rhythm)  may  be  cited  a 
stanza  from  a  chorus  in  Gilbert  Murray's  translation  of 
the  Hippolytus: 

To  the  strand  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Sunset, 
The  Apple-tree,  the  singing  and  the  gold; 

Where  the  mariner  must  stay  him  from  his  onset. 
And  the  red  wave  is  tranquil  as  of  old; 
Yea,  beyond  that  Pillar  of  the  end 

9 


That  Atlas  guardeth,  would  I  wend; 
Where  a  voice  of  living  waters  never  ceaseth 

In  God's  quiet  garden  by  the  sea. 
And  Earth,  the  ancient  life-giver,  increaseth 

Joy  among  the  meadows  like  a  tree. 

While  the  reader  should  have  no  difficulty  in  falling 
into  the  swing  of  these  lines,  it  might  puzzle  him  to  decide 
what  is  the  basic  rhythmical  unit  or  foot.  If  he  begins  to 
analyze  their  metrical  structure,  he  will  doubtless  first 
note  that  the  number  of  strongly  stressed  syllables  in 
each  line  is  three.  Next  he  will  note  that  between  two 
such  stresses  fall  one,  two,  or  three  unstressed  or  very 
slightly  stressed  syllables.  But  in  six  of  the  lines,  the 
number  of  syllables  between  stresses  is  uniformly  three. 
He  will  therefore  assume  a  basic  foot  of  four  syllables, 
with  a  single  principal  stress.  Now  some  of  the  lines  begin 
with  two  unstressed  syllables,  some  with  one,  some  with 
a  stress.  He  will  probably  find  it  simplest  to  regard  the 
basic  foot  as  beginning  with  a  stress,  the  combination 
found  in  "joy  among  the"  and  "meadows  like  a."  He 
will  then  be  able  to  describe  each  line  as  made  up  of 
repetitions  and  variations  of  this  foot.  The  variations 
will  include  the  prefixing  of  one  or  of  two  unstressed 
syllables  at  the  beginning  of  the  line,  the  absence  of  one  or 
two  unstressed  syllables  from  any  foot  before  the  last, 
and  the  absence  of  two  or  of  three  unstressed  syllables 
from  each  final  foot.  Yet,  although  this  somids  very 
complicated  when  described,  the  reader  can  hardly  fail 
to  catch  the  swing  of  the  lines  at  once.  They  may  be 
hard  to  scan,  but  they  are  easy  to  read  and  to  enjoy. 

The  original  meaning  of  the  word  harmony,  in  Greek, 
was  a  joining,  as  in  building  or  carpentry;  from  this  it 
came  to  mean  agreement  or  concord  in  general,  and  then 
a  concord  of  musical  sounds.  It  was  first  employed  in 
English  in  the  sense  of  music  or  melody,  referring  to  the 
combination  of  musical  sounds,  whether  simultaneous  or 

10 


successive.  From  this  sense  its  use  was  extended  to  apply 
to  the  pleasing  combination  of  words  in  poetry  and  even 
to  the  beautiful  sound  of  the  words  in  themselves.  It  is 
therefore  appropriate  to  use  this  term  as  the  name  of  the 
other  conspicuous  element  in  the  sound  of  verse,  namely, 
the  pleasing  effect,  other  than  rhythmical,  produced  by 
syllables,  or  their  vowels  or  consonants,  due  either  to 
their  agreeable  quality  in  themselves  or  to  repetition  or 
contrast. 

In  such  passages  as 

When  Charlemain  with  all  his  peerage  fell 
At  Fontarabbia, 

(Paradise  Lost  I.  586-587) 

or 

Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs. 
Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time, 

{AsYouLikelt  II.  vii.  111-112) 

it  will  probably  be  felt  that  for  the  most  part  the  individ- 
ual syllables  are  pleasing  in  sound.  The  stressed  syllables 
for  the  most  part  contain  long  vowels  or  diphthongs; 
there  are  few  "hard''  (unvoiced)  consonants.  By  com- 
paring with  these  lines  a  line  from  Swinburne's  burlesque 
of  Browning, 

Ah,  how  can  fear  sit  and  hear  as  love  hears  it  grief's  heart's  cracked 
grates  screech? 

we  can  recognize  wherein  harmony  in  this  sense  differs 
from  harshness.  It  may  be  more  important  that  the 
expressions  "Charlemain  with  all  his  peerage,"  "the  shade 
of  melancholy  boughs,"  and  "the  creeping  hours  of 
time"  call  up  visual  images  and  are  attended  by  romantic 
associations  of  various  kinds,  appealing  directly  or  in- 
directly to  the  emotions,  but  it  remains  true  that  these 
expressions  are  made  up  of  more  pleasing  sounds  than 
those  ingeniously  compounded  by  Swinburne  in  the  line 
above  quoted,  and  that  this  is  one  of  the  sources  of  the 
reader's  pleasure. 

11 


The  familiar  lines  which  Coleridge  declared  he  had 
composed  in  a  dream, 

In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree: 
Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran. 
Through  caverns  measureless  to  man, 

Down  to  a  sunless  sea, 

(Kubla   Khan    1-5) 

illustrate  many  varieties  of  harmony.  The  rhymes,  and 
the  alliteration  of  the  initial  consonants  of  Kubla  and 
Khan,  river  and  ran,  measureless  and  man,  sunless  and 
sea,  are  most  apparent.  But  note  further  the  repetition 
of  d  in  Xanadu,  did,  decree,  dome,  and  down;  the  repetition 
of  the  /c-sound  from  the  first  line  in  caverns;  the  assonance 
(vowel-correspondence  without  rhyme)  of  Alph  and  caverns 
with  the  rhyming  words  ran  and  man;  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  two  sets  of  rhymes;  and  the  contrast  in  the 
last  line  between  the  vowels  of  sunless  and  of  sea. 

Harmony,  like  rhythm,  is  not  limited  to  verse;  prose 
may  also  have  harmony.  But  the  harmony  of  verse, 
like  its  rhythm,  is  more  constant  and  more  obvious  than 
that  of  prose. 

The  succeeding  chapters  will  examine  in  greater  detail 
the  particular  forms  of  rhythm  and  harmony  in  verse, 
and  their  relation  to  the  content. 


12 


CHAPTER    TI 
METRICAL    AND    FREE    VERSE 

It  has  been  pointed  out  in  the  preceding  chapter  that 
the  most  marked  difference  between  verse  and  prose  is  a 
difference  of  rhythm.  While  prose  may  be  in  whole  or 
part  rhythmical,  or  may  seem  so  to  readers  with  a  highly  de- 
veloped rhythmical  sense,  rhythm  is  not  an  essential  element 
of  prose  and  forms  no  part  of  its  definition.  But  in  verse, 
rhythm  is  an  essential  element,  without  which  the  verse 
would  not  be  verse  at  all.  The  question  whether  harmony, 
in  the  sense  defined,  is  equally  essential,  need  not  detain 
us;  harmony  is  at  least  always  present  in  some  form,  and 
if  verse  is  deficient  in  harmony,  it  is  felt  to  be  for  that 
reason  inartistic  and  unsatisfactory. 

With  regard  to  its  rhythmical  structure,  verse  may  be 
divided  into  two  kinds,  metrical  and  free  verse.  In  the 
first,  the  rhythm  manifests  itself  in  a  pattern  which  may  I 
be  defined,  with  allowance  for  variation,  by  some  numer- 
ical rule;  which  with  some  changes  of  terminology  may 
be  scanned,  that  is,  described,  by  the  methods  of  Latin 
and  Greek  prosody.  In  the  second,  the  rhythm  is  hardly ^ 
to  be  brought  under  any  single  rule;  the  pattern  is  con  J 
stantly  changing. 

The  relative  merits  of  the  two,  as  mediums  for  poetic 
expression,  have  been  much  debated  of  late.  There  are 
readers,  some  of  them  poets  themselves,  who  see  in  free 
verse  only  a  kind  of  no  man's  land  lying  between  metrical 
language  and  prose,  a  kind  of  metrical  anarchy.  These 
critics  of  free  verse  maintain  that  a  great  part  of  the 
pleasure  felt  in  the  reading  of  verse  arises  from  the  poet's 
mastery  of  technique,  from  his  skillful  handling  of  a 
metrical  form  so  that  it  seems  to  enhance,  and  not  hamper, 

13 


his  expression.  This  pleasure  they  fail  to  derive  from 
free  verse.  The  advocates  of  free  verse,  contrariwise, 
see  in  metre  a  mechanical  formalism,  an  outworn  con- 
vention, a  constant  impediment  to  the  perfect  correspond- 
ence between  form  and  content.  The  quarrel,  if  such  it 
may  be  called,  is  but  one  manifestation  of  the  opposition 
between  traditionalists  and  individualists,  between  those 
who  feel  that  the  interests  of  art  are  best  served  by  pre- 
serving a  traditional  standard  and  those  who  find  in 
standards  a  hindrance  to  freedom  of  expression. 

Free  verse  is  not  new.  Milton  says  in  his  brief  essay 
on  tragedy  prefixed  to  Samson  Agonistes,  "The  measure  of 
verse  used  in  the  chorus  (of  this  tragedy)  is  of  all  sorts, 
called  by  the  Greeks  monostrophic  or  rather  apolelymenon," 
that  is,  loosed  or  free.  The  lines  he  uses  are  prevailingly 
iambic,  of  varying  lengths,  with  occasional  rhymes: 

As  one  past  hope,  abandoned. 

And  by  himself  given  over; 

In  slavish  habit,  ill-fitted  weeds 

O'er-worn  and  soiled; 

Or  do  my  eyes  misrepresent?     Can  this  be  he. 

That  heroic,  that  renowned. 

Irresistible  Samson,  whom  unarmed 

No  strength  of  man  or  fiercest  wild  beast  could  withstand? 
{Samson  Aijonistes  120-127) 

Blake,  in  his  preface  to  Jerusalem,  spoke  disparagingly 
of  the  "monotonous  cadence"  of  Milton  and  Shakespeare, 
"as  much  a  bondage  as  rhyme  itself."  He  described  his 
own  verse  as  containing  "a  variety  in  every  line,  both  of 
cadences  and  number  of  syllables."  A  specimen  passage 
of  his  verse  in  longer  lines  is  as  follows: 

When  winter  rends  the  hungry  family  and  the  snow  falls 
Upon  the  ways  of  men,  hiding  the  paths  of  man  and  beast. 
Then  mourns  the  wanderer;  then  he  repents  his  wanderings  and 

eyes 
The  distant  forest;  then  the  slave  groans  in  the  dungeon  of  stone. 
The  captive  of  the  will  of  the  stranger,  held  for  scanty  hire. 

[Jerusalem  20.   12-16) 

14 


Matthew  Arnold  has  many  poems  in  imrhymed  lines, 
with  the  rhythm  freely  varied: 

April  showers 

Rush  over  the  Yorkshire  moors. 
Stormy,  through  driving  mist. 
Loom  the  blurr'd  hills;  the  rain 
Lashes  the  newly  made  grave. 

{Epilogue) 

A  poet  of  to-day  would  probably  divide  the  last  two  lines 
differently : 

Loom  the  blurr'd  hills; 

The  rain  lashes  the  newly  made  grave. 

This  would  free  them  from  the  appearance  of  following  a 
metrical  pattern. 

No  brief  quotation  can  do  justice  to  the  manifold 
rhythms  of  Walt  Whitman,  yet  a  few  lines  will  serve  to 
illustrate  how  far  he  departed  from  set  measures  and 
how  definitely  the  rhythm  of  his  lines  is  marked. 

From  this  hour,  freedom! 

From  this  time  I  ordain  myself  loos'd  of  limits  and  imaginary  lines, 
Going  where  I  list,  my  own  master,  total  and  absolute. 
Listening  to  others,  and  considering  well  what  they  say. 
Pausing,  searching,  receiving,  contemplating. 

Gently,  but  with  unyielding  will,  divesting  myself  of  the  holds 
that  would  hold  me. 

{Song  of  the  Open  Road  53-58) 

William  Ernest  Henley  (d.  1903)  may  fairly  be  said  to 
have  composed  a  number  of  his  poems  in  free  verse  of  the 
type  that  is  written  to-day.  See,  especially,  the  group 
called  Rhymes  and  Rhythms.  He  showed  the  possibilities 
of  free  verse  as  a  medium  for  graphic  description  and  in- 
tense feeling,  and  obtained  for  it  a  much  wider  recog- 
nition than  it  had  received  before.  Since  his  day,  free 
verse  has  become  increasingly  popular. 

It  is  sometimes  hard  to  draw  the  line  between  metre 
and  free  verse.  There  are  degrees  of  freedom.  Certainly 
the  sonnet  and  blank  verse  are  not  free,  yet  blank  verse 

15 


may  be  freely  treated,  as  will  be  illustrated  later.  At  the 
other  extreme,  the  freest  of  free  verse  usually  includes 
many  perfectly  regular  lines,  though  the  reader  has  no 
means  of  knowing  when  to  expect  them.  In  general,  the 
distinguishing  marks  of  free  verse  are  that  the  rhythm  is 
free  to  change  not  only  from  line  to  line  but  within  the 
line,  and  that  such  "regular"  lines  as  may  occur  do  not 
serve  as  a  standard  pattern  of  which  the  others  may  be 
regarded  as  variations.  Some  writing  offered  under  the 
name  of  free  verse,  however,  has  been  so  colloquial  in  tone, 
so  indeterminate  in  rhythm,  and  so  commonplace  in  subject 
and  treatment  that  the  reader  has  difficulty  in  recognizing 
in  it  anything  but  chopped-up  prose. 

For  all  the  recent  popularity  of  free  verse,  the  great 
body  of  English  poetry  has  been  written  in  more  or  less 
regular  metres.  These  only  will  be  considered  in  the 
succeeding  chapters. 


16 


CHAPTER    III 
THE    LINE    AND    THE    FOOT 

To  the  eye,  the  most  obvious  feature  of  verse  is  that  it 
is  written  in  lines.  Indeed,  the  Latin  word  versus,  from 
which  the  EngKsh  word  verse  is  derived,  means  a  turning, 
and  hence  denotes  that  kind  of  language  in  which  the 
writer  turns  back,  instead  of  going  on  to  the  margin  as  in 
prose  (prosa  oratio,  straightforward  language).  Though 
verse,  and  with  it  the  line,  existed  before  the  invention  of 
writing,  they  are  known  by  names  which  refer  to  their 
form  when  written  or  printed. 

What  is  a  line.^  Is  it  a  purely  arbitrary  group  of  con- 
secutive words,  or  are  its  limits  determined  by  some  prin- 
ciple? Is  a  poem  composed  of  lines,  or  divided  into  lines? 
Clearly,  in  most  poems  written  in  stanzas,  or  in  couplets, 
the  lines  are  marked  off  by  the  rhymes.  But  in  these 
there  are  occasionally  internal  rhymes,  which  do  not 
mark  a  line-ending,  as. 

The  splendour  falls  on  castle  walls. 
And  what  determines  the  line  in  unrhymed  verse? 

Briefly,  it  may  be  answered  that  the  line  is  the  real  unit 
of  versification.  It  is  a  group  of  syllables  whose  rhythm 
represents  a  pattern  intended  by  the  writer  and  felt  by 
the  reader.  This  pattern  may  be  called  the  basic  rhythm. 
A  given  line  may  conform  exactly  to  the  basic  rhythm: 

And  now  they  never  meet  in  grove  or  green; 

or  it  may  depart  widely  from  it,  as, 

The  eloquent  blood  told  an  ineffable  tale, 
which  is  hardly  to  be  recognized  as  in  the  same  metre.     A 
metre  may  be  based  on  a  single  pattern,  as  in  blank  verse, 
or  on  a  combination  of  patterns,  as  in  stanzas  with  lines  of 
different  lengths  or  rhythms.     The  patterns  may  vary 

17 


from  line  to  line,  recurring,  but  not  at  fixed  intervals,  as 
in  Wordsworth's  Intimations  of  Immortality,  Or  the 
rhythms  may  be  so  varied  and  changing  that  each  line 
is  a  law  unto  itself.  We  can  then  no  longer,  by  comparing 
two  or  more  lines  with  each  other,  derive  from  them  a 
pattern  of  which  they  present  variants.  At  this  point, 
we  have  arrived  at  free  verse,  something  lying  outside  of 
metre  as  here  defined.  But  the  line  is  always  the  definite 
form  in  which  the  rhythm  is  manifested. 

This  implies  that  in  reading  verse  or  in  reciting  it,  the 
end  of  the  line  is  indicated  by  a  pause.  This  pause  may  or 
may  not  correspond  to  a  natural  pause  determined  by  the 
sentence  structure.  If  it  does  not,  it  may  be  slight,  almost 
imperceptible,  but  it  should  none  the  less  be  there.  The 
reader  may  of  course  be  justified  in  ignoring  a  line-division 
here  or  there  for  some  special  purpose,  but  as  soon  as  he 
fails  to  indicate  the  line-division  to  his  hearers,  he  is  read- 
ing the  verse  not  as  verse,  but  as  rhythmical  prose. 

To  make  a  statement  in  the  form  of  a  single,  self- 
contained  line  is  a  familiar  and  natural  means  of  giving  it 
prominence. 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained. 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 
Not  without  hope  we  suffer  and  we  mourn. 
A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever. 
The  One  remains,  the  many  change  and  pass. 

But  a  series  of  self-contained  lines  would  soon  produce  an 
impression  of  monotony  and  lifelessness. 

One  element  in  the  artistic  quality  of  poetry  is  the  con- 
flict between  the  line  and  the  clause,  between  the  rhythmical 
structure  and  the  logical  structure.  Verse  in  which  each 
line  is  a  complete  clause  or  sentence,  set  off  by  marks  of 
punctuation,  is  almost  certain  to  be  monotonous.  The 
beauty  of  blank  verse  in  particular  lies  in  its  consisting  of 
syllables  grouped  into  lines  according  to  one  principle 
and  of  words  grouped  into  sentences  according  to  another. 

18 


From  line  to  line  the  two  groupings  coincide,  almost 
coincide,  fall  apart,  conflict  in  various  degrees,  and  end  by- 
coinciding. 

The  cottage  which  was  named  the  Evening  Star 

Is  gone — the  ploughshare  has  been  through  the  ground 

On  which  it  stood;  great  changes  have  been  wrought 

In  all  the  neighbourhood: — yet  the  oak  is  left 

That  grew  beside  the  door;  and  the  remains 

Of  the  unfinished  sheep-fold  may  be  seen 

Beside  the  boisterous  brook  of  Greenhead  Ghyll. 

(Wordsworth,  Michael  476-482) 

When  the  sense  is  thus  carried  over  from  one  line  to 
another,  the  final  line  of  the  passage  is  commonly  a  com- 
plete clause  or  phrase,  in  the  basic  rhythm,  bringing  the 
two  groupings  into  accord.  Often  two  or  more  such  regular 
lines  conclude  a  passage. 

We  are  not  now  that  strength  which  in  old  days 
Moved  earth  and  heaven;  that  which  we  are,  we  are; 
One  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts. 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield. 

(Tennyson,  Ulysses  66-70) 

For  the  study  of  their  rhythm,  lines  are  divided  into 
feet,  corresponding  to  the  metrical  pulsations  or  waves. 
Each  foot,  as  a  rule,  consists  of  from  two  to  four  syllables, 
of  which  one  is  stressed,  either  because  it  would  naturally 
be  stressed  in  a  similar  passage  of  prose,  or  because, 
having  already  caught  the  rhythm  from  preceding  lines, 
we  accommodate  our  reading  of  the  new  line  to  the  pattern 
already  in  our  mind. 

My  lord,  I  shall  reply  amazedly. 

Half  sleep,  half  waking;  but  as  yet  I  swear, 

I  cannot  truly  say  how  I  came  here. 

{Midsummer  Night's  Dream  IV.  i.  152-154) 

Three  stresses  in  the  first  of  these  lines  and  four  in  the 

second  are  so  strongly  marked  that  the  reader  has  no 

difficulty  in  recognizing  the  rhythm  intended,   and  in 

reading  the  lines  accordingly.     The  third  line,  if  it  stood 

19 


by  itself,  would  probably  not  suggest  a  regular  metrical 
pattern.  But  when  we  come  upon  it,  already  knowing 
the  pattern,  we  leave  the  word  came  unstressed  and  stress 
the  final  syllable  here.  This  is  sufficient  to  bring  the  line 
within  the  metrical  scheme. 

In  classifying  and  describing  lines  the  first  points  to  be 
noted  are  (1)  the  basic  foot;  (2)  the  number  of  feet; 
(3)  any  excess  or  defect  of  unstressed  syllables  at  the  be- 
ginning or  end.  More  detailed  description  will  take 
account  of  (4)  substitutions  of  other  feet  for  the  basic 
foot;  (5)  the  position  of  the  caesura;  (6)  the  degree  of 
stress  upon  the  final  syllable,  if  that  is  in  a  position  calling 
for  stress;  (7)  the  presence  or  absence  of  a  pause  at  the 
end  of  the  line. 

Though  this  may  sound  painfully  minute,  it  is  of  course 
much  less  than  is  brought  out  when  the  line  is  read  aloud. 
And  so  far  no  accoimt  has  been  taken  of  at  least  one  very 
important  circumstance,  namely,  that  the  syllables  which 
constitute  the  line  are  grouped  not  only  into  feet,  but 
also  into  words.  Similar  to  the  conflict  and  coincidence  of 
the  line  and  the  phrase  or  clause,  already  discussed,  is 
that  of  the  foot  and  the  word,  upon  which  depend  many 
delicate  metrical  effects.  But  for  most  purposes,  it  will 
be  sufficient  to  note  the  points  Hsted  above. 

Basic  Feet 

It  is  sufficient  to  recognize  six  basic  feet.  They  may 
be  grouped  according  to  their  number  of  syllables  (two, 
three,  or  four),  or  according  to  the  position  of  their  stresses 
(rising,  when  an  unstressed  syllable  comes  first;  falling, 
when  the  stressed  syllable  comes  first). 


Two  syllables 
Rising  .  .  .  iamb  (vO 
Falling  .  .  trochee  {'J) 


Three  syllables 
anapest  (^-u^') 
dactyl     ('rrv) 
Examples  of  lines  composed  of  these  feet 
Iamb  Ambi|tioiis  life|and  U|bors  dll|in  vdin. 

20 


Four  syllables 
double  iamb  (v'.^v) 
double  trochee   ('^,w) 


Trochee  Willows|  whiten,  |  d,spens|  quiver. 

Anapest  All  the  h^art|  and  the  s6ul|  and  the  s^ns]  es  f or^v|  er  in 

j6y. 
Dactyl  Jtist  for  a|hdndful  of]  silver  he|l6ft  us. 

Double  iamb        Then  mightily |  rose  Sdtan  and|ab6ut  the  earth] he 

I   hied. 
Double  trochee     J6y  among  thej  m^dows  like  a|  tr^e. 

In  the  last  three  examples  the  last  foot  is  incomplete;  the  missing 
stressed  syllables  are  compensated  for  by  a  pause. 

The  Dames  iamb,  trochee,  anapest,  dactyl  have  been 
borrowed  from  classical  prosody,  with  a  change  of  impli- 
cation. As  used  of  Greek  and  Latin  verse,  they  refer  to 
the  quantity  of  syllables  (the  length  of  time  taken  to  utter 
them);  used  of  English  verse,  they  refer  only  to  stress 
(the  force  with  which  syllables  are  uttered). 

A  third  trisyllabic  foot,  the  amphibrach,  with  the  stress 
in  the  second  place,  is  usually  described  in  treatises  on 
metre,  but  may  be  disregarded,  t  Lines  composed  of  feet 
of  this  kind  may  be  satisfactorily  described  as  anapestic 
or  dactylic,  with  an  initial  unstressed  syllable  omitted  or 
prefixed.     Thus  the  line. 

Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night-cloud  had  lower* d, 
may  be  regarded  as  anapestic  tetrameter,  with  an  initial 
syllable  omitted  and  an  extra  syllable  at  the  end.     The 
anapest,  rather  than  the  dactyl,  is  here  chosen  as  the  basic 
foot  because  other  lines  of  the  poem,  such  as, 

And  the  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky, 
are  wholly  composed  of  anapests. 

The  terms  double  iamb  and  double  trochee  are  inno- 
vations. Verse  in  quadrisyllable  feet  has  puzzled  most 
writers  on  metre.  Lanier,  in  his  Science  of  English 
Fer^e  (1880),  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  give  it  clear 
and  satisfactory  treatment.  In  his  system  of  figuring  the 
rhythm  of  verse  by  musical  notation,  he  represented  these 
measures  by  four-eight  time.  With  this  clue,  all  the 
difficulties  disappear,  yet  we  still  find  such  poems  as 
Tennyson's  In  the  Valley  of  Cauteretz,  Meredith's  Love  in 

21 


the  Valley,  and  Kipling's  Last  Chantey  explained  as  written 
in  "mixed  metre"  or  in  "combinations  of  different  feet." 

In  quadrisyllabie  feet  it  is  not  imcommon  to  find  a  per- 
ceptible secondary  stress  on  the  second  syllable  after  the 
main  stress.  Thus  the  word  earth,  in  the  third  foot  of  the 
double-iambic  line  above,  has  more  stress  than  the  syllables 
before  and  after  it.  So  in  the  double-trochaic  line  quoted, 
the  syllables  -mong  and  like  are  slightly  stressed. 

It  is  possible,  though  a  departure  from  custom,  to  dis- 
pense with  the  notion  of  feet  in  rising  rhythm,  just  as  in 
musical  notation  all  rhythms  are  represented  by  measures 
beginning  with  an  accent.  But  it  saves  words  to  call  a 
line,  for  instance,  iambic  instead  of  calling  it  trochaic 
with  anacrusis.  And  although,  as  explained  below,  the 
distinction  between  rising  and  falling  rhythms  may  be- 
come indifferent  in  a  poem  in  which  they  are  freely  inter- 
changed, readers  are  conscious  of  a  difference  in  effect 
between  the  corresponding  rising  and  falling  rhythms, 
though  they  would  doubtless  have  difficulty  in  putting  it 
into  words.  Observe,  for  example,  the  use  made  by 
Wordsworth  of  trochaic  lines  in  his  Song  at  the  Feast  of 
Brougham  Castle, 

In  some  poems  the  corresponding  rising  and  falling 
rhythms  are  freely  interchanged. 

C6me,  but  k^p  thy  w6nted  stdte, 
With  6ven  st6p,  and  musing  gdit. 

(Milton,  //  Penseroso) 
Kn6w  ye  the  Idnd  of  the  c^dar  and  vine. 
Where  the  fl6wers  ever  bl6ssom,  the  b^ms  ever  shine? 

(Byron,   The  Bride  of  Ahydos) 
All  along  the  vdlley,  wh^re  thy  waters  flow, 
I  w^ked  with  one  I  I6ved  two  and  thirty  years  ag6. 

(Tennyson,  In  The  Valley  oj  Cauteretz) 

In  the  above  examples  a  line  in  rising  rhythm  follows 
one  in  the  corresponding  falling  rhythm  and  without  the 
final  imstressed  syllable  or  syllables.  The  result  is  that 
the  original  rhythm  seems  to  be  carried  over  into  the 

22 


second  line  without  interruption,  or  rather,  with  less  in- 
terruption than  if  the  two  lines  had  been  exactly  alike. 
In  the  third  example,  the  first  line  ends  with  the  first 
syllable  of  a  double  trochee,  and  the  second  may  be  re- 
garded as  beginning  with  the  fourth  syllable  of  the  same 
foot  carried  over. 

Usually,  where  variation  of  this  kind  occurs,  one  of 
the  two  types  of  foot  is  much  the  more  common.  For 
example,  II  Penseroso,  quoted  above,  is  for  the  most  part 
composed  in  iambic  lines.  Whether  we  should  describe 
the  remainder  as  trochaic,  or  as  iambic  lacking  the  open- 
ing unstressed  syllable,  is  a  purely  verbal  question.  The 
stanza  cited  in  Chapter  I  illustrates  how,  in  four-syllabled 
metre,  lines  in  rising  and  in  falling  rhythms  may  alternate 
so  freely  that  it  becomes  hard  to  say  which  of  the  two  is 
basic  and  which  is  the  variation.  The  question  is  unim- 
portant; what  is  important  is  that  the  reader  should  be 
able  to  follow  the  rhythm  of  the  poem  as  he  goes  along. 
He  will  ordinarily  be  able  to  do  this  better  if  he  can  de- 
scribe it  in  consistent  language,  but  there  is  more  than 
one  way  of  doing  this. 

The  reader  may  be  uncertain  whether  or  not  the  metre 
of  a  given  poem  is  based  on  a  four-syllabled  foot.  For 
instance,  the  line  is  in  rising  rhythm  and  of,  say,  ten  or 
fourteen  syllables.  They  can  be  grouped  in  iambs.  Is 
this  right,  or  should  these  iambs  be  combined  in  pairs, 
with  a  single  iamb  left  over  at  the  end.^  The  question 
must  be  decided,  by  examining  not  a  single  line,  for  any 
single  line  may  vary  considerably  from  the  type,  but  a 
number  of  lines.  If  in  these  a  series  of  alternate  stresses 
are  regularly  strong,  and  the  intermediate  stresses  slight, 
the  foot  is  four-syllabled,  otherwise  not.  One  might,  for 
example,  mistakenly  read  the  first  line  of  Gray's  Elegy  as 

The  curfew  tolls|the  kn^ll  of  parti ing  ddy,  ' 

but  he  could  not  go  on. 

The  16wing  herd|  winds  sl6wly  o'er|the  1^, 
23 


because  herd  requires  a  strong  stress,  and  winds  is  likewise 
stressed.  Compare  with  these  the  Une  ah'eady  given  as  an 
example  of  the  double  iamb.  Similarly,  though  some 
single  lines  of  Locksley  Hall  will  fit  easily  into  the  rhythm 
of  the  double  trochee,  as, 

Better!  fifty  years  of|fiurope  than  a|c^cle  of  Ca|thdy, 
the  reader  will  soon  find  out  that  others  will  not,  and  that 
the  rapid  movement  of  the  four-syllabled  foot  would  be 
inappropriate  to  the  tone  of  the  poem. 

Number  of  Feet 
The  number  of  feet  in  the  line  is  indicated  by  the  terms 
dimeter,  of  two  feet;  trimeter,  of  three  feet;  tetrameter, 
of  four  feet;  pentameter,  of  five  feet;  hexameter,  of  six 
feet;  heptameter,  of  seven  feet. 
Iambic  dimeter 
Iambic  trimeter 
Trochaic  trimeter 
Anaj^stic  trimeter 
Dactylic  trimeter 
Iambic  tetrameter 
Trochaic  tetrameter 
Anapestic  tetrameter 


Amid|the  st6rm. 

The  g61d|en  y^ars|  return. 

Little|Ldmb,  who  made  thee? 


I  am  m6n|arch  of  dll 
S^nd  but  a|s6ng  over 
Where  m6re  is  m^nt 


I  survey. 

s6a  for  us. 

than  m^etslthe  6ar. 


Iambic  pentameter 

Trochaic  pentameter 
Iambic  hexameter 


N6w  pur|suing,|n6w  re|tr^ting. 

In  the  si|lence  of  m6rn|ing  the  s6ng|of 

the  bird. 
And  still|they  gdzed,|and  still|the  w6n|der 

gr^w. 
Mdde  and|  wr6te  them|fn  a|c^rtain|  v61ume. 
The    wr^ath|  which  Ddn|te's   br6w|al6ne| 


Iambic  heptameter 


bef6re. 

a  j6y|the  w6rld|can  glve|like 


had  w6rn 
There's  n6t 

thdt|it  tdkes|awdy. 

Excess  and  Defect 
Some  lines  in  rising  rhythm  have  one  or  two  unstressed 
syllables  following  the  last  stress.  Such  lines  are  said  to 
have  a  feminine  ending  or  a  double  feminine  ending.  The 
origin  of  the  term  is  that  disyllabic  rhymes  in  French  are 
called  feminine  rhymes,  because  they  may  be  formed 
with  feminine  adjectives. 

24 


Examples 

Anapestic  dimeter  with  feminine  ending 

He  is  g6ne|on  the  m6untj^in. 
Iambic  trimeter  with  feminine  ending     By  cl6ud|and  m{st|abdt|§d» 
Anapestic  trimeter  with  feminine  ending 

For  a  ddyjand  a  night|and  a    m6rlr6w. 
Iambic    tetrameter    with    feminine    ending 

And    16ud|res6und|ed  mlrth|and  ddnc|3[ng. 
Iambic  pentameter  with  feminine  ending 

On  pur|  pie  p6aks|  a  d6ep| er  shdde]  desc^nd|  Jng. 
Iambic  pentameter  with  double  feminine  ending 

Untdint|ed,  un|exdm]in'd,  fr^e,|at  lib|ertj^. 

Iddre|avouch|it,   sir.|     Whdt,  fif|ty  f6l|l6wers? 

The  term  double  feminine  ending  is  chiefly  used  of  the 
occasional  twelve-syllabled  lines,  similar  to  those  just 
quoted,  in  the  blank  verse  of  Shakespeare  and  his  con- 
temporaries. 

\  Some  lines  in  falling  rhythm  end  in  an  incomplete  foot; 
^.  /that  is,  the  last  stressed  syllable  either  ends  the  line  or  is 

I  followed  by  fewer  unstressed  syllables  than  go  to  make  up 
the  basic  foot.  Such  lines  are  called  catalectic.  It  is 
simpler,  though  not  so  brief,  to  describe  them  as  lacking 
the  last  syllable,  or  the  last  two  or  three  syllables,  as  the  case 
may  be. 

Trochaic   tetrameter   catalectic   Robed   in|  flames   and|dmber| light. 
Dactylic  trimeter  catalectic     This  is  a|sprdy  the  bird| citing  to. 
Dactylic  tetrameter  catalectic 

Just  for  a|  handful  of |  silver  he|l^ft  us. 

Bidding  the|  cr6p-headed|  Pdrliament|  swing. 
Double-trochaic  trimeter  catalectic 

Joy  among  the]  meadows  like  a|tr^e. 

As  already  indicated  (under  Basic  Feet),  when  a  poem 
is  composed  for  the  most  part  in  a  falling  rhythm,  it  is 
convenient  to  regard  the  other  lines  as  of  the  same  kind, 
with  one  or  more  unstressed  syllables  prefixed.  This 
prefixing  of  unstressed  syllables  is  called  anacrusis.  The 
second  line  of  each  of  the  last  three  examples  under  Basic 
Feet  will  serve  to  illustrate  anacrusis,  if  the  first  line  be 

25 


regarded  as  giving  the  basic  rhythm.  Similarly,  when 
a  poem  is  composed  for  the  most  part  in  a  rising  rhythm 
it  is  convenient  to  regard  the  other  lines  as  of  the  same 
kind,  with  one  or  more  initial  unstressed  syllables  lacking. 
In  Chaucer  and  in  Shakespeare,  a  few  lines  lacking  the 
initial  unstressed  syllable  occur  among  iambic  penta- 
meters, but  this  type  of  line  is  now  avoided. 
Substitutions 
The  variations  and  departures  from  the  basic  rhythm, 
apart  from  those  discussed  under  Excess  and  Defect,  are 
conveniently  described  as  substitutions.  For  example 
the  iambic  pentameter, 

Swift  as|a  shad|ow,  sh6rt|as  dn|y  dr^m, 
in  which  the  first  syllable  is  stressed  and  the  second  un- 
stressed, may  be  described  as  having  a  trochee  substituted 
for  an  iamb  in  the  first  place. ^      Similarly  the  line, 

M^t  we|on  hill,|in  ddle,|f6rest,|or  m6ad, 
may  be  described  as  having  trochees  in  the  first  and  fourth 
places.     The  line, 

Down  a  rocky  mountain,  buried  now  and  lost, 
isolated  from  its  context,  seems  to  be  made  up  of  six 
trochees,  the  last  incomplete,  and  would  be  that,  if  that 
were  the  basic  rhythm  of  the  poem  in  which  it  occurs.  But 
the  basic  rhythm  of  the  poem,  Wordsworth's  Excursion, 
is  iambic  pentameter;  hence  the  line  must  be  a  variation 
of  this.     It  must  therefore  be  read  with  five  stresses, 

Down  a  r6ck|y  m6un|tain,  bur|ied  n6w|and  I6st, 

^Objection  has  been  raised  to  this  formula.  To  say,  for  instance, 
that  the  first  foot  of  the  above  line  is  a  trochee  is  to  imply  that 
when  the  first  line  is  spoken  or  read  aloud,  the  group  of  syllables 
"swift  as"  occupies  substantially  the  same  amount  of  time  as  each 
of  the  groups  of  syllables,  taken  two  and  two,  that  follow  it. 
Metrists  with  an  accurate  sense  of  time  deny  this,  maintaining 
that,  instead,  the  group  "swift  as  a"  occupies  substantially  the 
same  time  as  the  groups  "shadow,"  "short  as,"  and  "any."  They 
consequently  prefer  a  division  of  the  line  and  a  nomenclature  which 
will  convey  this  implication  and  not  the  former  one.  The  writer 
has  adhered  to  the  old  usage  as  a  matter  of  custom  and  convenience. 

26 


with  an  anapest  substituted  for  the  first  iamb  of  the  basic 
metre. 

In  Shakespeare's  blank  verse,  particularly  when  the 
line  is  divided  between  two  speakers,  an  extra  unstressed 
syllable  occasionally  appears  at  the  beginning  of  a  fresh 
sentence  after  the  caesura: 

And  then  we  will  deliver  you  the  cause 
Why  I,  that  did  love  Caesar  when  I  struck  him. 
Have  thus  proceeded. 

Antony.  I  doubt  not  of  your  wisdom. 

(Julius  Caesar  III.  i.  181-183) 

Under  the  same  conditions  a  syllable  may  be  missing, 
even  in  a  position  calling  for  a  stress.  This  is  to  be  ex- 
plained as  compensated  for  by  a  pause.  In  some  passages, 
however,  the  irregularity  was  probably  caused  by  the 
cutting  out  of  one  or  two  more  intervening  speeches  or 
parts  of  speeches. 

Hail,  brave  friend! 
Say  to  the  king  the  knowledge  of  the  broil. 
As  thou  didst  leave  it. 

Soldier.  (     )  Doubtful  it  stood. 

As  two  spent  swimmers  that  do  cling  together 
And  choke  their  art. 

(Macbeth  I.  ii.  5-9) 

To  describe  other  common  variations  in  iambic  and 
trochaic  verse,  it  is  convenient  to  recognize  two  additional 
/feet,  occurring  only  as  substitutes,  the  pyrrhic  and  the 
I  spondee.     The  pyrrhic  consists  of  two  unstressed  syllables; 
\the  spondee  of  two  stressed  syllables. 
Thus  the  line, 
Chdnting|c61d  hymns|t6  the|c61d,  fruit | less  m6on, 
may   be   described   as   containing  four   substitutions;  a 
trochee  in  the  first  place,  spondees  in  the  second  and  fourth, 
and  a  pyrrhic  in  the  third. 

Feet  of  two  syllables  are  common  as  substitutes  in  the 
corresponding  three-syllabled  rhythms ;  iambs  for  anapests, 
and  trochees  for  dactyls.     In  the  line, 

27 


I  have  f61t|with  my  nd|tive  ldnd,|l  am  6ne|  with  my  kfnd, 
the  basic  metre  is  anapestic  pentameter,  but  an  iamb  is 
substituted  for  an  anapest  in  the  third  place. 

Rhythms  based  on  quadrisyllabic  feet  may  be  varied 
(1)  by  extra  unstressed  syllables  at  the  beginning  or  end 
of  the  line;  (2)  by  leaving  the  last  foot  incomplete 
(catalectic  line) ;  (3)  by  prolonging  the  first  stressed  syllable 
of  a  foot  so  that  it  takes  the  time  of  two  syllables;  (4)  by 
prolonging  two  successive  syllables  so  that  they  take  the 
place  of  a  double  trochee;  (5)  by  a  pause  within  the  line, 
so  that  the  first  half  ends  in  an  incomplete  foot.  Illustra- 
tions are  here  given  from  the  stanza  quoted  in  Chapter  I, 
and  from  the  opening  lines  of  Meredith's  Love  in  the  Valley. 
All  the  lines  quoted  are  catalectic.  The  numerals  to  the 
right  of  each  line  indicate  the  other  variations,  as  enumer- 
ated above. 

To  the|strdnd  of  the|  Ddughters  of  the]  Sunset,  (1,3) 

The|  Apple-tree,  the|  singing  and  the|g6ld;  (1) 

Where  the|  mdriner  must]  stdy  him  from  his|  6nset,  (1) 

And  the|r^d  wave  is|trdnquil  as  ofpld.  (1»3) 

tinder  yonder]  b^ech-tree,|  single  on  the|  greensward,  (4) 

C6uched  with  herldrms  (    )  be|hind  her  golden|head,  (3,5) 

Kn^es  and  tresses] f61ded  to|slip  and  ripple|idly,  (3) 

Lies  my|y6ung  love]  sleeping  in  the|shdde.  (4,4) 

It  is  clear  that  when,  in  the  manner  so  far  laid  down,  we 
describe  the  rhythm  of  a  line,  we  are  doing  so  only  in  a 
rough  way.  We  have  distinguished  only  two  (in  four- 
syllabled  feet  three)  degrees  of  stress,  and  have  specified 
simply  an  approximate  equality  of  time  for  the  groups  of 
syllables  called  feet.  The  more  delicate  differences  of 
stress,  the  rate  of  utterance,  the  variations  in  the  rate, 
the  length  of  the  pauses,  these  and  many  other  details 
have  been  left  undiscussed.  Such  scansion  as  has  so  far 
been  laid  down  has  thus  left  much  to  the  reader's  own 
judgment.  But  more  than  this,  it  may  be  conceded  that 
there  is  frequently  room  for  diflferences  of  opinion  regard- 

28 


ing  even  the  points  that  have  been  treated.  There  is 
often  more  than  one  way  of  reading  a  sentence,  even  in 
prose.  If  the  sentence  occurs  in  a  poem,  and  we  are  con- 
scious of  a  basic  rhythm  to  which  it  must  be  accommodated, 
individual  judgments  may  differ  as  to  the  degree  to  which 
it  should  be  made  to  conform.  Thus  one  reader  may 
pass  Kghtly  over  a  pair  of  syllables,  treating  them  as  a  pyr- 
rhic,  whereas  another  may  give  the  second  syllable  a  slight 
metrical  stress,  treating  the  pair  as  an  iamb.  A  similar 
disagreement  might  arise  over  a  possible  spondee.  Any 
half  dozen  consecutive  lines  of  blank  verse  will  probably 
afford  examples.  The  reader  may  also  sometimes  be 
uncertain,  when  two-syllabled  and  three-syllabled  feet 
are  freely  interchanged,  which  should  be  regarded  as  basic. 
If  in  his  judgment  neither  distinctly  predominates  over 
the  other,  he  may  take  his  choice.  The  question  is  not 
worth  long  pondering.  The  important  thing  is  that  he 
should  recognize  the  rhythm  and  be  able  to  describe  it  in 
some  intelligible  way. 

Certain  apparent  irregularities  may  conveniently  be 
discussed  under  this  heading.  When  no  consonant  sep- 
arates the  vowels  of  the  consecutive  syllables,  and  the 
first  of  these  is  unstressed,  the  two  syllables  may  be  merged 
in  pronunciation  so  as  to  be  metrically  one.  This  is 
called  elision.     It  may  occur  within  a  word,  as  in  the  line. 

Stains  the  white  radiance  of  Eternity, 
or  between  words,  as  in. 

O'er  man^  a  frozen,  many  a  fiery  Alp. 

Elizabethan  spellings  in  common  use,  like  tharmes  for 
the  arms  and  even  thandes  for  the  hands,  show  that  at  one 
Itime  the  e  of  the  could  be  absolutely  suppressed  before 
vowels.  So  could  the  o  of  to  before  the  infinitive.  The 
spellings  i'^A'  and  oHh\  used  even  before  words  beginning 
with  a  consonant,  must  also  have  represented  actual 
pronunciation.     But   when   such   spellings    as   th'offence 

29 


and  f  adore  are  found  in  Milton  and  later  poets,  they  are 
probably  conventional,  and  need  not  be  taken  to  mean 
that  the  vowel  has  disappeared  entirely.  Indeed,  the 
printed  texts  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton  occasionally  re- 
place by  an  apostrophe  a  vowel  that  is  required  for  met- 
rical completeness. 

Elision  also  includes  the  slighting  or  suppression  of  an 
unstressed  vowel  before  a  single  consonant,  usually  Z,  n, 
or  r,  either  in  a  medial  syllable,  or  in  some  words,  as  even 
and  heaven,  in  a  final  syllable. 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn. 

Of  calling  shapes,  and  beck'ning  shadows  dire. 

Where  earth  and  heaven  do  make  one  imag^y. 

In  the  versification  of  Shakespeare  the  terminations 
'tion  and  -ian  are  often  disyllabic;  similarly  the  word 
ocean  may  have  three  syllables.  When  Z  or  r  is  preceded 
by  a  consonant  and  followed  by  a  vowel,  as  in  sentry^ 
warbling,  disabled,  it  may  constitute  a  separate  syllable, 
as  if  written  sentery,  warbeling,  disable-ed.  Words  like 
fire,  power,  prayer  may  have  two  syllables.  This  last 
practice  still  lingers  in  unlettered  verse,  but  has  long  since 
been  abandoned  by  the  poets. 

The  Caesura 

The  caesura  (not  always  present)  is  a  pause  within  the 
line,  determined  by  the  phrasing.  It  may  be  so  marked 
a  pause  as  to  be  indicated  by  a  comma  or  other  stop,  or 
it  may  be  simply  the  slight  pause  which  in  deliberate 
speech  is  apt  to  occur  between  the  minor  groupings  of  the 
words  of  a  sentence.  More  than  one  caesura  may  occur 
within  the  line.  Of  course,  where  one  reader  would  make 
only  a  very  slight  pause,  another  might  make  none  at  all. 
With  regard  to  most  lines,  however,  readers  are  not  likely 
to  disagree,  either  as  to  the  presence  of  a  pause  or  as  to 
its  position. 

It  is  convenient  to  indicate  the  caesura  by  two  vertical 

30 


^J 


lines.  When  the  caesura  comes  at  the  end  of  a  foot,  in 
verse  in  which  both  feet  and  caesura  are  being  marked, 
the  vertical  line  to  mark  the  end  of  that  foot  may  be 
omitted. 

Examples 

Caesura  after  the  second  foot 

There  lies  the  land  :||  the  vessel  puffs  her  sail. 
Caesura  within  the  third  foot 

By  solemn  vision,||and  bright  silver  dream. 
Caesura  after  the  third  foot 

Of  moving  accidents||by  flood  and  field. 
Caesura  within  the  fourth  foot 

In  the  Parliament  of  man,|lthe  Federation  of  the  world. 
Caesura  after  the  first  and  third  feet 

Not  1, 11  but  my  affairs,  ||  have  made  you  wait. 

In  the  iambic  pentameter  line  the  commonest  place 
for  the  caesura  is  after  the  second  foot.  If  this  divisiom 
occurs  too  regularly,  however,  the  versification  tends  to 
become  monotonous.  Much  of  the  beauty  of  blank  verse 
depends  upon  the  variation  in  the  position  of  the  caesura. 
In  the  polished  heroic  couplets  of  Pope  and  his  school,  the 
caesura  after  the  second  foot  was  much  aflPected,  as  in  the 
familiar  passage  from  The  Rape  of  The  Lock  (II.  7-18) : 

On  her  white  breast  a  sparkling  cross  she  wore. 
Which  Jews  might  kiss,  and  infidels  adore. 
Her  lively  looks  a  sprightly  mind  disclose. 
Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfixed  as  those; 
Favors  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends; 
Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 
Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike. 
And  like  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  alike. 
Yet  graceful  ease,  and  sweetness  void  of  pride. 
Might  hide  her  faults,  if  belles  had  faults  to  hide; 
If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall. 
Look  on  her  face,  and  you'll  forget  'em  all. 

Final    Stress 
/    In  iambic  verse,  and  particularly  in  unrhymed  iambic 
pentameter  (blank  verse),  a  distinction  is  drawn  between 

31 


I  strong,  light,  and  weak  endings.  These  terms  are  apphed 
I  only  to  lines  ending  in  monosyllables  and  having  exactly 
i  five  feet,  that  is,  not  having  a  feminine  ending.  Such  a 
line  is  said  to  have  a  strong  ending  if  it  ends  in  a  word 
naturally  stressed  in  the  sentence;  a  light  ending,  if  it 
ends  in  a  word  capable  of  bearing  only  a  slight  metrical 
stress;  a  weak  ending,  if  it  ends  in  a  word  wholly  in- 
capable of  bearing  stress,  such  as  and,  for,  or,  connected 
without  pause  with  the  beginning  of  the  next  line. 

Examples 

Strong  ending        How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bany 
Light  ending         Be  pilot  to  me,  and  thy  places  shall 

Still  neighbor  mine. 
Weak  ending         Which  else  had  put  you  to  your  fortune  and 

The  hazard  of  much  blood. 

It  is  clear  that  blank  verse  with  strong  endings  only 
would  tend  to  stijffness,  and  that  blank  verse  with  a  high 
proportion  of  light  and  weak  endings  would  tend  to  re- 
semble rhythmical  prose,  inasmuch  as  in  passages  where 
they  were  frequent  the  line  division  would  be  largely  arti- 
ficial. 

Final  Pause 

Lines  may  be  distinguished  as  end-stopped  and  run-on. 

/  An  end-stopped  line  is  one  which  is  followed  by  a  natural 
pause  determined  by  the  sense.  A  rim-on  line  is  one 
which  is  not  followed  by  a  pause  determined  by  the  sense. 
Ordinarily  the  presence  or  absence  of  a  mark  of  punctuation 

\  is  a  suflScient  test.  All  lines  with  weak  or  light  endings 
»re  run-on. 

The  reader  will  note  that  the  last  three  points  discussed, 
namely.  Caesura,  Final  Stress,  a  ad  Final  Pause,  are  closely 
interrelated.  In  the  discussion  of  blank  verse  in  Chapter 
V,  they  will  be  brought  up  again,  and  treated  in  more 
detail. 


32 


CHAPTER  IV 
RHYME 

Rhyme  is  agreement  in  the  terminal  sounds  of  two  or 
more  words,  namely,  in  the  last  accented  vowel  and  the 
sounds  following,  if  there  be  any,  while  the  sounds  pre- 
ceding are  different  {Century  Dictionary) .  Rhymes  which 
fulfill  this  definition  may  be  called  normal  rhymes. 
Examples  are  I~by-^ie;  clear-fear-hear;  compel-tell-well; 
broken-spoken-token;  piety-society-variety.  These  exam- 
ples include  monosyllabic,  disyllabic,  and  trisyllabic 
rhymes. 

One  class  of  rhymes  excluded  by  the  definition  above 
is  that  known  in  French  as  rimes  riches,  in  which  the 
agreement  between  the  words  IncTudes  one  or  more  con- 
sonants preceding  the  vowel,  as  loom-bloom.;  friend-trend; 
light- delight;  fore-four.  The  first  two  of  these  are  unex- 
ceptionable. The  third  would  be  avoided  by  most  poets. 
The  last,  though  of  a  type  common  in  Chaucer,  would  now- 
adays be  considered  in  English  not  a  rhyme  but  an  identity. 

With  the  gradual  change  of  pronunciation,  many  pairs 
of  words  that  formerly  rhymed  no  longer  do  so.  The 
reader  must  not  be  surprised  to  find  in  poets  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  and  earlier  such  rhymes  as  aught-fault 
(formerly  with  silent  /);  line-join;  art-desert  (verb). 
Some  old  rhyming  pairs  of  this  class,  no  longer  exact,  have 
been  retained  or  revived  under  literary  influence,  as  love- 
prove;  death-beneath;  was-grass.  The  practice  of  rhyming 
words  like  victory,  hastily,  and  loyalty  both  with  words 
like  lie  and  with  words  like  be  goes  back  further  than  the 
Elizabethan  period. 

Rhyme  is  a  matter  of  pronunciation,  not  of  spelling. 
A  rhyme  is  imperfect  if  there  is  any  difference  in  the  sound 

33 


of  the  vowels  or  of  the  consonants  that  follow  them.  Yet, 
partly  because  of  that  scarcity  of  rhymes  upon  which 
Chaucer  was  perhaps  not  the  first  to  comment,  and  because 
of  the  persuasive  force  of  the  written  form,  imperfect 
rhymes  have  often  passed  muster  when  the  words  were 
spelled  in  like  manner.  Thus  Wordsworth  rhymes  moor 
and  door  {Lucy  Gray),  and  few  poets  have  ventured  to 
rhyme  war  except  with  such  words  as  far,  mar,  star,  etc., 
which  are  really  pronounced  with  a  different  vowel.  In 
The  Traveller  Goldsmith  rhymes  warm  with  form,  accord- 
ing to  the  prommciation;  in  The  Deserted  Village  he  rhymes 
warms  with  arms,  according  to  the  spelling. 

The  inexact  rhyming  of  voT\els  is  much  more  tolerable 
when  the  consonants  that  follow  are  capable  of  prolonga- 
tion, as  r,  I,  m,  n,  v,  ih,  or  at  least  are  voiced,  as  d  {wood— 
brood;  spread-displayed).  Rhymes  in  which  the  terminal 
consonants  do  not  match  exactly  are  altogether  unallow- 
able, except  those  of  the  type  breathe-death;  is-this,  in 
•  which  the  consonants  are  spirants,  the  one  voiced,  the 
other  unvoiced,  but  otherwise  alike. 

A  striking  series  of  imperfect  rhymes,  which  seem  to  fit 
perfectly  the  antique  theme  of  the  poem  in  which  they 
occur,  are  those  in  Rossetti's  translation  from  Villon, 
The  Ballade  of  Dead  Ladies: 

Tell  me  now  in  what  hidden  way  is 

Lady  Flora,  the  lovely  Roman. 
Where's  Hipparchia  and  where  is  Thais, 
Neither  of  them  the  fairer  woman? 
Where  is  Echo,  beheld  of  no  man. 
Only  heard  on  river  and  mere,- 

She  whose  beauty  was  more  than  human?  .  .  . 
But  where  the  snows  of  yester-year? 

Words  like  flower,  power,  tower  are  in  verse  monosyllabic, 
and  rhyme  perfectly  with  hour.  Wind  (noun)  rhymes 
with  find,  and  wound  with  sound.  Again  rhymes  with 
main. 

Rhymes  are  occasionally  found,  as  if  by  accident,  in 

34 


blank  verse,  though  as  a  rule  they  are  carefully  avoided. 
Two  examples  may  be  quoted: 

*First  spoke  the  lady,  last  the  cavalier!' 

-I  say,  why  should  the  man  tell  truth  right  here. 

When  graceful  lying  finds  such  ready  shift? 

(Browning,  The  Ring  and  the  Book  III.  937-939) 

The  stillness  of  the  dead  world's  winter  dawn 
Amazed  him,  and  he  groan'd,  *The  King  is  gone.' 

(Tennyson,  The  Passing  of  Arthur) 

Rhyming  passages  are  frequent  in  the  early  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  and  scenes  are  often  concluded  with  a  couplet 
or  two,  even  where  all  the  rest  of  the  dialogue  has  been 
unrhymed. 

Trisyllabic  rhymes  normally  imply  dactylic  or  anapestic 
metre,  and  hence  are  rarely  found  outside  of  lyrical  or 
humorous  verse.  Hood's  Bridge  of  Sighs  is  unusual  as  a 
poem  in  deeply  serious  tone  with  trisyllabic  rhymes. 

The  double  and  triple  rhymes  that  lie  readiest  to  hand 
are  those  between  words  formed  with  the  same  suflSxes,  as 
waking-breaking;  nearer-clearer;  taken-forsaken;  fearfully 
-tearfully;  magical-tragical.  The  objection  to  this  method 
of  obtaining  rhymes  is  that  it  makes  the  rhyming  lines 
invariably  end  with  the  same  part  of  speech.  This  hardly 
matters  when  the  rhymes  are  triple  ("The  remarkable 
thing  is  not  that  it  is  done  well,  but  that  it  is  done  at  all"), 
but  is  soon  felt  to  be  objectionable  if  they  are  double — ^as, 
indeed,  it  is  when  they  are  monosyllabic.  Variety  must 
be  obtained  by  at  least  occasional  rhymes  that  are  not 
grammatically  equivalent. 

Combinations  of  more  than  one  word  are  often  used  to 
form  double  and  triple  rhymes,  as  chorus-before  us;  tells 
me-compels  me;  where  it  is-fair  it  is.  Compounded 
rhymes  oddly  matched,  in  sense  or  sound  or  both,  have 
been  abundantly  used  for  humorous  or  grotesque  effect, 
as  by  Byron  in  Beppo  and  Don  Juan,  by  Lowell  in  A 

35 


Fable  for  Critics,    and   by   Browning  in  The  Flight  of  the 
Duchess. 

When  kneeling  on  the  shore  upon  her  sad  knee. 
He  left  this  Adriatic  Ariadne. 

Unqualified  merits,  I'll  grant,  if  you  choose,  he  has  'em. 
But  he  lacks  the  one  merit  of  kindling  enthusiasm. 

And  then,  when  red  doth  the  sword  of  our  Duke  rust, 
And  its  leathern  sheath  lies  o'ergrown  with  a  blue  crust. 
Then  shall  I  scrape  together  my  earnings. 

It  is  desirable  that  rhymes  which  come  next  to  each 
other  should  diflFer  both  in  the  vowels  and  in  the  following 
consonants.  A  succession  of  rhymes  like  night-hide- 
light-wide  aflfects  the  ear  unpleasantly.  A  short  search 
will  convince  the  reader  that  the  poets  have  usually  ob- 
served this  principle. 

A  peculiar  type  of  faulty  rhyme  is  that  in  which  one  of 
the  rhyming  syllables  is  in  the  position  following  the  stress. 
A  number  of  rhymes  of  this  kind  have  been  pointed  out  in 
Shelley.  One  occurs  in  a  well  known  passage  of  Shake- 
speare : 

Quite  over-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine. 
With  sweet  musk-roses,  and  with  eglantine. 

{Midsummer  Night's  Dream  II.  i.  251-252) 

According  to  their  arrangement,  rhymes  are  described 
as  in  couplets,  in  triplets,  alternate,  or  inverse.  These 
arrangements  may  be  indicated  by  the  notations  aabbcc, 
aaa  bbb,  abab,  abba. 

Rhyme  tends  to  emphasize  the  words  that  carry  it. 
When  both  words  of  a  rhyming  pair  bear  logical  stress, 
the  stress  is  considerably  reinforced  by  the  rhyme,  es- 
pecially if  the  Knes  form  a  couplet.  Hence  the  suitabiUty 
of  the  heroic  couplet,  as  written  by  Dryden,  Pope,  and 
Goldsmith,  for  pointed,  antithetical  statement: 

111  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey. 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay: 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade; 
36 


A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made: 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride. 
When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied. 

(Goldsmith,   The  Deserted  Village  51-56) 

/     A  few  words  may  be  added  on  the  history  of  rhyme  in 

•  I  EngHsh.     Rhyme  occurs  as  an  ornament  or  a  form  of 

\  word-play  in  a  few  Old  English  poems.     The  earliest 

9  l^i  English  poem  rhymed  throughout  in  the  modern  manner 

dates  from  about  1200.     From  then  on,  owing  to  French 

influence,  supplemented  by  that  of  mediaeval  Latin,  it  was 

more  and  more  used,  though  unrhymed  verse,  based  on 

alliteration,    continued   to   be   written   till   about    1400. 

'Rhyme  then  had  the  field  to  itself  until  Surrey  composed 

>  in  blank  verse  a  translation  of  four  books  of  the  Aeneidy 

'first  printed  in  1557,  ten  years  after  his  death.     For  the 

later  use  of  rhymed  and  unrhymed  verse,  see  Chapters  II 

and  V. 


37 


CHAPTER    V 
THE    CHIEF    METRES    OF    ENGLISH    VERSE 

In  this  chapter  will  be  described  a  number  of  the  regular 
metrical  forms  that  have  been  most  widely  used  in  Eng- 
lish. They  will  be  grouped  under  the  headings  of  contin- 
uous metres  and  stanzas. 

By  a  continuous  metre  is  meant  one  in  which  the  lines 
are  formed  upon  a  single  metrical  pattern,  and  are  not 
grouped  into  stanzas.  Some  continuous  metres  are  un- 
rhymed;  others  rhyme  in  couplets. 

A  stanza  is  typically  a  group  of  lines,  usually  at  least 
four,  which  is  constructed  according  to  a  recurring  pattern 
and  which  forms  an  integral  part  of  the  poem.  Exception- 
ally, a  poem  may  consist  of  a  single  stanza;  that  is,  it  may 
consist  of  only  a  few  lines,  forming  a  familiar  metrical 
pattern,  as  Landor's  quatrain, 

I  strove  with  none,  for  none  was  worth  my  strife. 

Nature  I  loved  and,  after  Nature,  Art; 
I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life; 

It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart. 

By  an  extension  of  the  term,  irregular  groups  of  lines,  such 
as  those  of  Wordsworth's  Intimations  of  Immortality y  are 
often  spoken  of  as  stanzas,  though  it  would  be  better  to 
call  them  strophes. 

Continuous  Metres 
Iambic  Tetrameter  Couplet 
This  metre  was  introduced  into  English  in  the  thirteenth 
century  by  writers  who  were  familiar  with  its  use  in  con- 
temporary French  poetry.  Chaucer  used  it  in  The  Book 
of  the  Duchess  and  The  House  of  Fame.  Mil  ton's  L' Allegro 
and  II  Penseroso  are  in  part  written  in  this  measure.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  Scott  revived  its  use 

38 


or  long  narrative  poems,  in  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel 
and  other  poems,  and  was  followed  by  Byron  in  The  Giaour, 
The  fault  of  this  metre  is  its  monotony,  and  what  Byron 
called  its  "fatal  facility."  Both  Scott  and  Byron  from 
the  beginning  varied  it  by  occasional  alternate  and  inverse 
rhymes  and  by  introducing  passages  in  other  metres. 
Since  their  time  it  has  been  little  used  except  for  short 
descriptive  or  lyrical  poems. 

Then   would   he   sing   achievements   high. 

And  circumstance  of  chivalry. 

Till  the  rapt  traveller  would  stay. 

Forgetful  of  the  closing  day; 

And  noble  youths,  the  strain  to  hear. 

Forgot  the  hunting  of  the  deer; 

And  Yarrow,  as  he  roll'd  along, 

Bore  burden  to  the  Minstrel's  song. 

{Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  VI.  xxxi.  34-41) 

Trochaic  Tetrameter  Couplet 
This  metre  is  that  used  by  Shakespeare  for  the  charms 
uttered  by  the  fairies  in  A  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream  and 
for  many  of  the  speeches  of  the  witches  in  Macbeth, 
Parts  of  U Allegro  and  II  Penseroso  are  in  this  metre. 
Keats  used  it  in  a  number  of  odes.  The  lines  are  usually 
catalectic.  Lines  of  iambic  tetrameter  are  often  freely  in- 
troduced, singly,  in  couplets,  or  in  passages  of  some  length. 

Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips  and  cranks  and  wanton  wiles. 
Nods   and  becks   and  wreathed  smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek. 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek; 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides. 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 

{V Allegro  25-32) 

Iambic  Pentameter  Couplet  (Heroic  Couplet) 
The  earliest  poem  in  this  metre  is  Chaucer's  Legend  of 
Good  Women.     The  greater  part  of  The  Canterbury  Talesy 

39 


iDcluding  the  Prologue,  is  in  this  measure.  In  the  EUza- 
bethan  period  it  was  used  by  Marlowe  in  his  Hero  and 
Leander,  and  regularly  by  the  writers  of  satire.  In  the 
Restoration  period  it  was  for  a  short  time  popular  on  the 
stage  in  the  * 'heroic  plays"  of  Dry  den  and  others.  Dry  den 
also  used  it  for  his  satires  and  theological  poems.  In  the 
Queen  Anne  period  it  was  brought  to  what  was  regarded  as 
perfection  by  Pope,  in  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  the  Satires, 
the  Essay  on  Man,  and  the  translation  of  the  Iliad,  this 
perfection  consisting  in  remarkable  smoothness  and  regu- 
larity, and  in  such  an  arrangement  of  the  ideas  that  each 
line  tended  to  be  a  complete  member  of  the  sentence,  with 
each  couplet  bringing  the  sense  to  a  conclusion.  This 
was  called  the  "closed  couplet."  Pope,  indeed,  had  train- 
ed himself  to  think  in  lines  and  couplets.  The  passage 
quoted  in  the  preceding  chapter  will  serve  as  an  illustration. 
Pope's  versification  was  long  regarded  as  a  model,  and 
is  imitated  by  Byron  in  The  Corsair.  Keats,  in  Sleep 
and  Poetry,  referred  to  Pope's  couplet  as  a  "rocking-horse," 
and  in  Endymion  took  pains  to  keep  the  metrical  structure 
and  the  sentence  structure  apart.  In  one  passage  (II. 
317-330),  he  defies  the  tradition  of  the  closed  couplet  by 
grouping  the  lines  in  pairs  contrary  to  the  rhyme.  Words- 
worth chose  the  heroic  couplet  for  The  Happy  Warrior 
as  the  traditional  measure  for  character-description  and 
ethical  reflection. 

Blank   Verse 

Blank  verse  is  iambic  pentameter  unrhymed.  As  al« 
ready  stated,  it  was  first  used  in  English  by  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  The  first  drama  in 
blank  verse  was  Sackville  and  Norton's  Gorhoduc,  per- 
formed in  1561  before  Queen  Elizabeth.  These  earliest 
writers  of  blank  verse,  like  Milton  later,  were  probably  in- 
fluenced both  by  the  recent  use  of  unrhymed  verse  in 
Italian  and  by  the  feeling  that  if  English  poetry  was  to 

40 


attain  to  equal  dignity  with  that  of  Greece  and  Rome,  it 
should  similarly  be  without  rhyme. 

The  first  drama  in  blank  verse  written  for  the  public 
stage  was  Marlowe's  Tamhurlaine,  acted  about  1587^ 
Before  Marlowe  showed  its  possibilities,  English  blank 
verse  ha^  been  mostly  limping  and  awkward,  and  at  best  a 
succession  of  monotonously  regular  lines,  which  read  as  if 
composed  one  by  one  in  fulfillment  of  a  task.  Marlowe 
was  the  first  to  make  the  rhythm  of  blank  verse  conform 
to  the  thought  and  feeling.  In  Tamburlaine,  the  lines 
are  prevailingly  end-stopped: 

Our  souls,  whose  faculties  can  comprehend 
The  wondrous  architecture  of  the  world. 
And  measure  every  wandering  planet's  course, 
Still  climbing  after  knowledge  infinite. 
And  always  moving  as  the  restless  spheres. 
Will  us  to  wear  ourselves  and  never  rest 
Until  we  reach  the  ripest  fruit  of  all, 
That  perfect  bliss  and  sole  felicity. 
The  sweet  fruition  of  an  earthly  crown. 

(Part  the  First,  II.  vii.  21-29) 

But  in  Dr.  Faustus  the  metre  is  handled  with  the  utmost 

freedom  (scene  xvi) : 

Ah,  Faustus, 
Now  hast  thou  but  one  bare  hour  to  live. 
And  then  must  thou  be  damned  perpetually! 
Stand  still,  you  ever-moving  spheres  of  heaven. 
That  time  may  cease,  and  midnight  never  come; 
Fair  Nature's  eye,  rise,  rise  again,  and  make 
Perpetual  day;  or  let  this  hour  be  but 
A  year,  a  week,  a  month,  a  natural  day. 
That  Faustus  may  repent  and  save  his  soul! 
0  lente^  lente  currite^  noctis  equil 

The  stars  move  still,  time  runs,  the  clock  will  strike. 
The  devil  will  come  and  Faustus  will  be  damned. 
O,  I'll  leap  up  to  my  God! — Who  pulls  me  down? — 
See,  see,  where  Christ's  blood  streams  in  the  firmament! 
One  drop  would  save  my  soul,  half  a  drop;  ah,  my  Christ! — 

lA  rival  claim  is  that  of  Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy,  greatly  inferior  in  its  versifi- 
cation, which  may  have  been  acted  a  little  earlier  than  Tamburlaine. 

41 


Ah,  rend  not  my  heart  for  naming  of  my  Christ! 
Yet  will  I  call  on  Him:  O,  spare  me,  Lucifer! 

With  Marlowe  showing  the  way,  blank  verse  became  the 
estabUshed  medium  of  drama,  though  prose  was  used  in 
some  parts  of  the  dialogue.  Shakespeare  at  first  used 
prose  chiefly  for  matter-of-fact  or  humorous  passages, 
especially  in  dialogue  in  which  humble  or  ludicrous 
characters  took  part,  but  he  came  to  use  it  also,  as  in 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing  and  As  You  Like  It,  for  the  pol- 
ished and  witty  language  of  ladies  and  courtiers  who  culti- 
vated conversation  as  a  fine  art.  Between  1660  and  1680,  to 
use  round  numbers,  the  supremacy  of  blank  verse  on  the 
stage  was  threatened  by  the  heroic  couplet.  In  the  course 
of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries,  the  place  of 
blank  verse  in  drama  was  gradually  usurped  by  prose. 

Milton  wrote  Paradise  Lost  and  Paradise  Regained  in 
blank  verse  of  unsurpassed  power  and  strongly  individual 
character.  For  some  time  after  this,  the  customary 
metre  for  non-dramatic  poems  of  any  length  was  the  heroic 
couplet.  Thomson's  Seasons  and  Cowper's  Task  brought 
blank  verse  again  into  favor.  Shortly  before  1800, 
Coleridge  composed  a  few  short  pieces  in  blank  verse 
of  exceptional  delicacy  and  beauty.  In  the  nineteenth 
century  the  most  distinctive  blank  verse  was  that  of 
Wordsworth,  Shelley,  Keats,  Tennyson,  and  Browning. 

The  blank  verse  of  any  great  poet  is  as  individual  as 
his  thought  and  diction,  if  only  because  these  are  perfectly 
embodied  in  it.  While  the  varieties  are  thus  in  theory  end- 
less, it  is  useful  to  distinguish  three  main  types,  which  it  is 
simplest  to  call  the  first,  second,  and  third;  the  first,  formal 
and  regular,  the  third  boldly  varied,  and  the  second  inter- 
mediate. It  will  be  understood  that  each  of  these  types 
allows  of  a  considerable  range  of  difference. 

The  first  type  is  that  in  which  the  lines  are  largely  end- 
stopped,  with  few  departures  from  the  basic  rhythm, 
either  in  the  number  of  syllables  or  in  the  position  of  the 

42 


accents.  What  variation  occurs  in  individual  lines  ap- 
pears to  be  undesigned,  and  arises  out  of  the  grouping  of 
syllables  into  words,  the  position  of  the  caesura,  and  the 
occasional  use  of  a  trochee  in  the  first  place.  It  may  be 
illustrated  by  a  passage  from  Gorboduc  (V.  ii.  183-191) : 

The  royal  king  and  all  his  sons  are  slain; 
No  ruler  rests  within  the  regal  seat; 
The  heir  to  whom  the  sceptre  longs,  unknown; 
That  to  each  force  of  foreign  princes'  power. 
Whom  vantage  of  our  wretched  state  may  move 
By  sudden  arms  to  gain  so  rich  a  realm. 
And  to  the  proud  and  greedy  mind  at  home 
Whom  blinded  lust  to  reign  leads  to  aspire, 
Lo,  Britain  realm  is  left  an  open  prey. 

In  the  second  type,  the  rhythm  is  no  longer  dominated 
by  the  metrical  scheme.  Run-on  lines  are  numerous,  but 
the  line-divisions  do  not  separate  words  which  form  part 
of  the  same  phrase.  Trochees  and  spondees  are  freely 
substituted  for  iambs,  and  the  position  of  the  caesura 
varies  greatly.  The  lines  are  felt  to  be  not  similar  units, 
but  component  parts  of  a  larger  rhythmical  structure. 
This  type,  in  its  perfection,  may  be  illustrated  by  a  passage 
from  Paradise  Lost  (IV.  720-725) : 

Thus  at  their  shady  lodge  arriv'd,  both  stood. 
Both  turn'd,  and  under  open  sky  ador'd 
The  God  that  made  both  sky,  air,  earth,  and  heaven 
Which  they  beheld,  the  moon's  resplendent  globe. 
And  starry  pole:  Thou  also  mad'st  the  night. 
Maker  Omnipotent,  and  Thou  the  day. 

In  the  third  type  the  metrical  scheme  is  treated  with 
still  greater  freedom.  End-stopped  lines  become  excep- 
tional, so  that  line-division  and  sentence  structure  are  in 
almost  continual  conflict.  Light  and  weak  endings  are 
numerous.  Extra  syllables  are  freely  introduced,  both 
within  the  line,  and  at  the  end.  Few  lines  preserve  the 
basic  rhythm  without  marked  deviation.  Verse  of  this 
type  may  resemble  rhythmical  prose,  or  may  reproduce 

43 


closely  the  rhythms  of  unstudied  speech.     To  this  type 
belongs  the  passage  from  Marlowe's  Faustus,  quoted  above. 
It  appears  constantly  in  Shakespeare's  latest  plays,  and 
more  recently,  in  the  blank  verse  of  Browning. 
Since  what  I  am  to  say  must  be  but  that 
Which  contradicts  my  accusation,  and 
The  testimony  on  my  part  no  other 
But  what  comes  from  myself,  it  shall  scarce  boot  me 
To  say,  *Not  guilty';  mine  integrity. 
Being  counted  falsehood,  shall,  as  I  express  it. 
Be  so  receiv'd.     But  thus:  if  powers  divine 
Behold  our  human  actions,  as  they  do, 
I  doubt  not  then  but  innocence  shall  make 
False  accusation  blush,  and  tyranny 
Tremble  at  patience. 

{The  Winter's  Tale   III.  21-31) 

God's  works — paint  any  one,  and  count  it  crime 
To  let  a  truth  slip.     Don't  object,  **His  works 
Are  here  already;  nature  is  complete: 
Suppose  you  reproduce  her — (which  you  can't) 
There's  no  advantage!  you  must  beat  her,  then." 
For,  don't  you  mark?  we're  made  so  that  we  love 
First  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a  hundred  times,  nor  cared  to  see; 
And  so  they  are  better,  painted — better  to  us. 
Which  is  the  same  thing. 

{Fra  Lippo  Lippi  291-300) 

To  assign  a  given  piece  of  blank  verse  to  the  type  it 
most  closely  resembles  will  be  at  least  a  step  toward 
appreciating  its  metrical  qualities. 

The  blank  verse  of  Shakespeare  shows  a  gradual  prog- 
ress from  the  first  type,  as  in  Richard  ///,  through  the  sec- 
ond, as  in  Julius  Caesar,  to  the  third,  as  in  Macbeth  and 
later  plays.  This  statement  will  not  be  borne  out  by 
every  speech  in  a  given  play;  it  simply  indicates  the  gen- 
eral tendency.  It  implies  that  Shakespeare  began  by  care- 
ful comformity  to  metrical  pattern,  that  he  then  brought 
expression  and  metrical  pattern  into ,  perfect  balance, 
neither  dominating  the  other,  and  that   later  he  made 

44 


metrical  pattern  conform  to  the  demands  of  expression. 
His  verse,  that  is,  took  on  more  and  more  the  accents  of 
actual  speech. 

It  may  be  noted  that  the  examples  of  the  third  type  of 
blank  verse  are  taken  from  a  play  of  Shakespeare  and  a 
dramatic  monologue  of  Browning:  that  is,  both  represent 
actual  speech.  For  that  purpose,  this  type,  if  not  ex- 
aggerated, is  suitable.  Except  for  that  purpose,  the 
ideal  form  of  blank  verse  is  the  second  type,  disciplined 
yet  not  mechanically  exact,  flowing  and  varied  yet  con- 
tinually returning  to  the  basic  rhythm. 

Dactylic  Hexameter 

. //  The  English  dactylic  hexameter  is  an  imitation,  in 
/accentual  verse,  of  a  classical  metre  in  quantitative  verse, 
'  that  of  the  Iliad,  the  Odyssey,  and  the  Aeneid.  A  few  dis- 
regarded experiments  in  this  metre  were  made  in  the 
Elizabethan  period.  Southey  reintroduced  it  in  his  Vision 
of  Judgment,  and  was  ridiculed  for  this  by  Byron.  Long- 
fellow's Evangeline  has  been  the  most  widely  read  of  later 
poems  in  this  measure. 

r  According  to  classical  rule,  the  first  four  feet  were  either 
'  dactyls  or  spondees,  the  fifth  was  almost  invariably  a 
dactyl,  and  the  sixth  a  spondee.  For  the  most  part,  the 
writers  of  English  hexameters  have  not  attempted  to  im- 
itate this  use  of  spondees,  but  have  composed  their  lines 
of  dactyls  and  trochees. 

Now  from  the  country  round,  from  the  farms  and  neighboring 

hamlets. 
Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants. 
Many  a  glad  good-morrow  and  jocund  laugh  from  the  young  folk 
Made  the  bright  air  brighter,  as  up  from  the  numerous  meadows. 
Where  no  path  could  be  seen  but  the  track  of  wheels  on  the  green- 
sward. 
Group  after  group  appeared,  and  joined,  or  passed  on  the  highway, 

(Evangeline   I.    368-373) 

45 


Terza    Rima 

Terza  rima  is  the  metre  of  Dante's  Divina  Commedia, 
It  consists  of  iambic  pentameter  lines,  grouped  in  threes, 
rhyming  aba  bcb  cdc  ded,  etc.,  with  a  final  line  completing 
the  rhyme.  The  form  thus  Ues  between  continuous  and 
stanzaic  metre. 

Shelley  used  this  metre  in  Prince  Athanase,  The  Triumph 
of  Life,  and  The  Woodman  and  the  Nightingale,  and  in  a 
modified  form  in  the  Ode  to  the  West  Wind.  Browning 
followed  its  rhyme-scheme  in  The  Statue  and  the  Bust, 

Then  said  my  guide,  "Turn  round;  what  dost  thou  here? 

See  Farinata,  risen  now  upright; 

Above  the  girdle  thou  shalt  see  him  clear." 
Already  I  had  fixed  on  him  my  sight, 

And  he  surged  upward  with  his  breast  and  head. 

As  if  he  held  all  hell  in  great  despite. 
My  leader's  quick,  bold  hands  urged  me  to  tread 

Among  the  sepulchres  to  where  his  lay, 

Saying,  "See  that  thy  words  be  numbered." 
When  to  his  tomb's  foot  I  had  made  my  way. 

He  gazed  on  me  a  little,  then,  in  scorn, 

"Who  were  thine  ancestors.^"   I  heard  him  say. 

{Inferno  X.  31-43;  translated  by  M.  J.  Hubert) 

Stanzas 

A  stanza  is  described  by  giving  the  number  of  lines,  the 
metrical  description  of  each  line,  and  the  arrangement  of 
the  rhymes.  Thus  the  stanza  of  Keat's  Ode  to  the  Nightin- 
gale consists  of  ten  lines,  all  iambic  pentameter  except  the 
eighth,  which  is  iambic  trimeter,  and  rhyming  ababcdecde. 
If  certain  lines  of  a  stanza  always  have  internal  rhyme,  or 
always  have  feminine  endings,  or  are  always  catalectic,  or 
show  any  other  constant  variation  from  the  basic  rhythm, 
or  if  there  is  a  refrain,  this  should  be  noted. 

The  number  of  possible  stanzas  is  practically  unlimited. 
Here  will  be  described  only  a  few  of  those  which  have  been 
most  widely  used. 

46 


The  Ballad  Stanza 

The  stanza  commonly,  but  not  exclusively,  used  m  the 
old  ballads  is  of  four  lines,  the  first  and  third  iambic  tetra- 
meter, the  second  and  fourth  iambic  trimeter.  In  the 
ballads,  as  a  rule,  the  rhythm  is  freely  treated,  and  only 
the  second  and  fourth  lines  rhyme. 

There  lived  a  wife  at  Usher's  Well, 

And  a  wealthy  wife  was  she; 
She  had  three  stout  and  stalwart  sons. 
And  sent  them  o'er  the  sea. 

{The  Wife  of  Usher's  Well  1-4) 

In  literary  verse,  this  stanza  occurs  with  the  single  pair 
of  rhymes,  as  in  the  ballads,  and  with  alternate  rhyme. 
An  eight-line  stanza,  on  the  same  plan,  is  also  often  used, 
as  in  Lovelace's  To  Althea  from  Prison, 

Iambic  Tetrameter  Quatrains 
Four-line  stanzas  of  iambic  tetrameter  are  often  used, 
rhyming  in  couplets,  alternately,  or  inversely.     The  last 
form,  though  occasionally  employed  by  poets  before  Tenny- 
son, is  best  known  as  the  stanza  of  In  Memoriam, 

The  hills  are  shadows,  and  they  flow 
From  form  to  form,  and  nothing  stands; 
They  melt  like  mist,  the  solid  lands. 

Like  clouds  they  shape  themselves  and  go. 

{In  Memoriam  cxxiii.  5-9) 

Iambic  Pentameter  Quatrains 
The  four-line  stanza  of  iambic  pentameter  usually  has 
alternate  rhyme,  as  in  Gray's  Elegy  and  in  Wordsworth's 
Peele  Castle, 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power. 
And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave. 

Awaits  alike  the  inevitable  hour — 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 
{Elegy   33-36) 

In  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women,  Tennyson  has  altered  this 
stanza  by  making  the  fourth  line  iambic  trimeter.     The 

47 


natural  tendency  in  reading  such  a  stanza  aloud  is  to  read 
the  fourth  line  more  slowly  than  the  others,  in  order  to 
make  it  balance  them  in  sound.  This  slow  reading  is  in 
keeping  with  the  dignity  and  pathos  of  the  stories  present- 
ed in  the  poem. 

Ottava  Rima 

This  stanza,  of  Italian  origin,  is  of  eight  lines  of  iambic 
pentameter,  rhyming  abababcc.  Its  first  literary  use  was 
by  Boccaccio.  From  this  time,  it  has  been  the  customary 
stanza  of  narrative  poetry  in  Italian,  being  used  by 
Ariosto  and  Tasso  in  their  great  epics,  as  well  as  by  poets 
of  less  eminence. 

Wyatt,  who  introduced  the  sonnet  into  English,  also 
introduced  this  stanza,  which  was  used  by  some  of  the 
Elizabethan  poets.  In  the  nineteenth  century  John 
Hookham  Frere  wrote  in  ottava  rima  a  burlesque  epic. 
The  Monks  and  the  Giants y  "by  William  and  Robert  Whis- 
tlecraft,"  which  suggested  to  Byron  the  use  of  the  stanza 
in  Beppo  and  Don  Juan,  though  Byron  was  already  ac- 
quainted with  the  Italian  comic-romantic  poets  who  had 
served  as  Frere 's  models.  Keat's  Isabella  was  begun  before 
the  publication  of  Beppo,  but  published  later  (1829). 

Byron  made  this  stanza  so  distinctly  his  own  that  it  has 
rarely  been  attempted  since.  The  great  difficulties  of  the 
stanza,  as  a  medium  for  narrative,  are  the  continual  need 
of  finding  rhymes  in  groups  of  three,  and  the  way  in  which 
the  final  couplet  seems  to  bring  the  sense  to  a  halt  with 
each  stanza.  Long  passages  in  the  story  of  Haidee  show 
that  Byron  found  these  difficulties  not  insurmountable. 
To  his  particular  vein  of  humorous  narrative  and  rambling 
satire  the  stanza  was  admirably  suited.  Grotesque 
rhymes  like  Spaniard-tan-yard-man  yard  were  all  the  more 
ludicrous  for  coming  in  threes,  and  the  final  couplet  could 
be  utilized  for  ending  the  stanza  with  a  sudden  epigram- 
matic turn. 


u 


He  entered  in  his  house,  no  more  his  home, 
A  thing  to  human  feelings  the  most  trying. 

And  harder  for  the  heart  to  overcome. 

Perhaps,  than  even  the  mental  pangs  of  dying; 

To  find  our  hearthstone  turned  into  a  tomb. 

And  round  its  once  warm  precincts  palely  lying 

The  ashes  of  our  hopes,  is  a  deep  grief. 

Beyond  a  single  gentleman's  belief. 

{Don  Juan  III.  li) 

The  Spenserian  Stanza 

The  Spenserian  stanza,  invented  by  Edmund  Spenser 
for  The  Faerie  Queene  (first  three  books  pubHshed  in 
1590),  has  nine  lines,  the  first  eight  iambic  pentameter  and 
the  ninth  iambic  hexameter  (Alexandrine),  rhyming  ab- 
I  abbcbcc.  He  apparently  formed  it  by  adding  a  ninth  line 
to  the  stanza,  of  French  origin,  used  by  Chaucer  in  The 
Monk's  Tale.  The  stanza  thus  devised  was,  if  only  for  its 
length,  more  suitable  for  Spenser's  leisurely-flowing  and 
richly  ornamented  narrative  than  the  ottava  rima  would 
have  been.  Further  the  arrangement  of  the  rhymes 
is  less  suggestive  of  a  formal  balance  of  clauses.  By  varying 
the  grouping  of  the  lines  and  the  position  of  the  pauses, 
Spenser  gives  the  stanza  a  continual  variety. 

The  stanza  was  revived,  toward  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  by  poets  who  sought  to  recapture  the 
spirit  of  Spenser  as  well  as  his  outward  form.  From  their  ex- 
ample it  was  used  by  Burns  in  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 
and  by  Byron  in  Childe  Harold.  Shelley  used  it  in  The 
Revolt  of  Islam,  perhaps  prompted  by  Byron's  example, 
and  in  Adonais.  Keats,  a  professed  disciple  of  Spenser, 
used  it  in  The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes. 

A  casement  high  and  triple-arch'd  there  was. 

All  garlanded  with  carven  imag'ries 

Of  fruits,  of  flowers,  and  bunches  of  knot-grass. 

And  diamonded  with  panes  of  quaint  device. 

Innumerable  with  stains  of  splendid  dyes. 

As  are  the  tiger-moth's  deep-damask'd  wings; 

49 


And  in  its  midst,  'mong  thousand  heraldries. 
And  twilight  saints,  and  deep  emblazonings, 
A  shielded  scutcheon  blush'd  with  blood  of    queens    and 
kings. 

{The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  stanza  xxiv) 

The  Pindaric  Ode 

A  number  of  the  odes  of  Pindar,  one  of  the  famous  lyric 
poets  of  ancient  Greece,  are  constructed  on  the  following 
plan.  The  number  of  stanzas,  to  use  the  modern  term,  is 
a  multiple  of  three;  in  each  group  of  three,  the  first  two, 
called  strophe  and  antistrophe,  are  of  some  one  pattern; 
the  third,  called  epode,  is  of  a  different  pattern.  These 
two  patterns  are  adhered  to  throughout  the  poem.  Ben 
Jonson  composed  an  ode  in  this  form,  and  Gray  adopted  it  in 
The  Bard  and  The  Progress  of  Poesy.  In  Pindar's  odes 
this  elaborate  correspondence  was  justified  and  revealed 
by  the  musical  setting;  in  Gray's  odes  it  becomes  a  piece 
of  intellectual  ingenuity,  which  has  probably  escaped  the 
notice  of  many  of  his  readers. 

The    Sonnet 

The  sonnet  originated  in  Italy,  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
It  was  first  used  as  a  stanza  in  lyric  poetry,  but  single 
sonnets  soon  came  to  be  written  as  independent  poems. 
The  sonnets  in  which  Petrarch  (d.  1374)  celebrated  the 
beauty  and  virtues  of  Laura  became  famous  throughout 
western  Europe.  From  one  of  them  Chaucer  took  the 
material  for  three  stanzas  of  his  Troilus  and  Cressida. 

As  employed  by  Petrarch,  the  sonnet  consists  of  four- 
teen lines  of  iambic  pentameter.  These  lines  form  two 
groups,  the  octave,  of  two  quatrains,  rhyming  ahba  abba, 
and  the  sestet,  of  two  tercets,  rhyming  cde  cde  or  cdc  dcd. 
Occasionally  the  rhymes  of  the  sestet  are  further  varied. 

The  sonnet  was  introduced  into  English  by  Sir  Thomas 
Wyatt,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  He  followed  the 
Italian  arrangement  of  rhymes  in  the  octave,  but  continued 

50 


\/ 


cddcee.  His  friend  the  Earl  of  Surrey  made  an  innovation 
by  writing  sonnets  consisting  of  three  quatrains  and  a  final 
couplet:  ahah  cdcd  efef  gg.  This  form  has  come  to  be 
known  as  the  Shakespearean  sonnet. 

Practically  every  poet  of  the  Elizabethan  age  wrote 
sonnets.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  his  series  of  sonnets  called 
Astrophel  and  Stella,  commonly  follows  the  order  abba  abba 
cdcdee,  and  observes  the  divisions  into  quatrains  and  ter- 
cets. Shakespeare's  sonnets  follow  the  common  Eliza- 
bethan practice,  rhyming  like  those  of  Surrey. 

Milton's  sonnets,  written  after  the  form  had  passed  out 
;  of  general  favor,  rhyme  after  the  Italian  model,  but  in  more 
than  half  of  them  he  avoids  making  a  pause  in  the  sense  at 
the  end  of  the  eighth  line. 

After  Milton,  the  sonnet  was  neglected  until  it  was  re- 
stored to  English  by  the  **romantic"  poets  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  ,  The  way  was  thus  paved  for  Wordsworth, 
whose  greatest  sonnets  rival  those  of  Milton  as  expressions  of 
deep  moral  and  patriotic  feeling.  Wordsworth  follows  the 
Italian  order  of  rhymes,  with  occasional  liberties,  and  us- 
j  ually  observes  the  division  into  two  parts.  Keats,  Mat- 
!  thew  Arnold,  Mrs.  Browning,  and  Rossetti  may  be  named 
among  those  who  have  written  sonnets  of  high  rank. 

The  popularity  of  the  sonnet  during  many  centuries  and 
its  use  by  great  poets  from  Dante  onward  are  evidence  of 
its  merits  as  a  metrical  invention.  Its  most  apparent 
features  are  its  brevity,  its  subdivisions,  the  continuity 
within  the  octave  and  within  the  sestet,  caused  by  the 
carrying  over  of  the  rhymes,  and  the  musical  quality 
caused  by  the  repetition  of  the  rhymes. 

The  form  is  long  enough  to  allow  the  development  of  a 
poetic  idea,  but  not  so  long  as  to  tempt  the  poet  into  di- 
.gressions.  Wordsworth  declared  that  the  excellence  of 
^/  i  the  sonnet  seemed  to  him  to  consist  mainly  in  the  pervad- 
ing sense  of  intense  unity. 

In  so  brief  a  form  it  is  natural  to  expect  perfection  of 

51 


detail  throughout.  There  should  be  nowhere  any  weak- 
ness of  thought  or  expression.  In  particular,  the  first  and 
last  lines  are  for  obvious  reasons  those  in  which  strongly- 
marked  rhythm  and  memorable  diction  are  called  for. 

Once  did  She  hold  the  gorgeous  east  in  fee. 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

The  subdivisions  may  be  utilized  to  give  the  composition 
an  architectural  symmetry,  if  the  poet  desires.  In  some 
sonnets,  as  in  Wordsworth's  Composed  Upon  Westminster 
Bridge,  they  are  virtually  disregarded,  in  the  interest  of 
"intense  unity."  Usually,  the  division  into  octave  and 
sestet  is  made  significant.  The  two  parts  stand  in  some 
such  relation  as  that  of  contrast,  of  simile,  of  question  and 
answer,  of  situation  and  comment,  of  statement  and  jus- 
tification. The  quatrains  are  also  often  made  distinct 
parts  in  the  development  of  the  octave.  The  subdivision 
of  the  sestet  into  two  members  is  less  commonly  observed. 

As  an  example  of  a  sonnet  in  which  all  the  divisions  are 
observed,  one  of  Wordsworth's  {Miscellaneous  Sonnets 
III,  xxvii)  may  be  quoted. 

A  POET!-B.e  hath  put  his  heart  to  school. 
Nor  dares  to  move  unpropped  upon  the  staff 
Which  Art  hath  placed  within  his  hand — must  laugh 
By  precept  only,  and  shed  tears  by  rule. 

Thy  Art  be  Nature;  the  live  current  quaff. 
And  let  the  groveller  sip  his  stagnant  pool. 
In  fear  that  else,  when  Critics  grave  and  cool 
Have  killed  him.  Scorn  should  write  his  epitaph. 

How  does  the  Meadow-flower  its  bloom  unfold? 
Because  the  lovely  little  flower  is  free 
Down  to  its  root,  and,  in  that  freedom,  bold; 

And  so  the  grandeur  of  the  Forest-tree 
Comes  not  by  casting  in  a  formal  mould, 
But  from  its  own  divine  vitality. 

The  octave,  as  a  whole,  bids  the  poet  discard  art  for  nature. 
The  first  quatrain  describes  the  poet  as  he  timidly  adheres 

52 


to  rules;  the  second  bids  him  drink  of  the  Kving  stream. 
The  sestet  gives  two  analogues  in  justification:  the  first 
tercet,  that  of  the  meadow  flower;  the  second,  that  of  the 
forest  tree.  The  relation  between  octave  and  sestet  is 
that  of  two  members  of  a  simile. 


53 


CHAPTER    VI 
RELATIONS    BETWEEN    SOUND     AND    SENSE 

For  the  purpose  of  analysis,  rhythm  and  harmony  have 
been  discussed  as  independent  elements  of  verse,  and  as  if 
they  existed  apart  from  the  content.  As  already  indicated, 
however,  they  are  bound  up  with  it  and  to  a  considerable 
degree  dependent  upon  it.  The  line  and  stanza,  similarly, 
have  been  discussed  chiefly,  though  not  exclusively,  as 
metrical  patterns,  apart  from  the  content.  Yet  it  seems 
clear  that  the  content  must  to  some  degree  determine  the 
form.  We  cannot  imagine  Paradise  Lost  in  the  metre  of 
Marmion,  or  The  Faerie  Queene  in  the  heroic  couplet. 
The  study  of  verse  must  therefore  include  some  study  of 
the  relation  between  the  form  of  the  verse  and  its  content. 

The  stanzas  of  a  short  poem  often  have  a  significance 
like  that  of  the  cantos  or  parts  of  a  long  poem.  Thus  a 
poem  of  two  or  three  stanzas  is  almost  certain  to  have  a 
twofold  or  threefold  division  of  the  thought.  If  it  has 
not,  it  would  be  better  to  run  the  stanzas  together  without 
division.  Familiar  poems  in  which  the  stanzas  are  clearly 
significant  in  this  way  are  Wordsworth's  "A  slumber  did 
my  spirit  seal"  (two  stanzas),  Masefield's  Cargoes  (three), 
Wordsworth's  Solitary  Reaper  (four),  Shelley's  Ode  to  the 
West  Wind  (five).  Keais's  Belle  Dame  Sans  Merci consists 
of  twelve  stanzas,  which  form  four  groups  of  three  each, 
indicated  by  the  resemblances  and  differences  of  the  first 
lines.  An  ingenious  use  of  the  stanza  to  produce  a  con- 
trary effect  occurs  in  two  of  Browning's  poems,  Johannes 
Agricola  in  Meditation  and  Porphyria' s  Lover.  These  two 
monologues  present  the  workings  of  disordered  minds. 
Browning  has  written  them  in  five-line  stanzas,  run  to- 
gether as  continuous  metre,  suggesting  the  way   in  which 

54 


idea  follows  upon  idea  without  pause  or  check,  coherently 
and  yet  abnormally. 

The  sonnet,  if  the  division  into  parts  is  observed,  be- 
comes essentially  a  set  of  stanzas.  The  relations  between 
these  have  been  discussed  in  Chapter  V. 

The  specific  suggestions  of  rhythm  and  pause  are  less 
easy  to  analyze.     In  such  a  line  as  that  of  Tennyson, 
The  sound  of  many  a  heavily  galloping  hoof, 

the  design  to  imitate  the  rhythm  of  hoof-beats  is  plain. 
Compare  the  catchword  of  The  Northern  Farmer — New 
Style, 

Proputty,  proputty,  proputty-canter  an'  canter  awaay. 
Browning's  ''How  they  brought  the  Good  News''  is  another 
poem  in  which  the  rhythm  simulates  galloping: 

Not  a  word  to  each  other;  we  kept  the  great  pace 
N,eck  by  neck,  stride  by  stride,  never  changing  our  place. 

Of  course  there  is  not  often  occasion  for  imitation  so  direct 
as  in  these  passages,  but  where  action  is  described,  the 
rhythm  may  accentuate  the  impression  by  its  smoothness 
or  by  its  irregularity. 

Line-division  and  phrasing  disagree  most  strikingly 
when  a  single  word  at  the  beginning  of  a  line  is  joined  in 
sense  with  the  line  before,  or  when  a  new  phrase  begins 
with  the  last  word  of  a  line.  Hence,  a  pause  thus  arising 
creates  unusual  emphasis. 

The  trumpets  blew,  and  then  did  either  side. 
They  that  assailed,  and  they  that  held  the  lists. 
Set  lance  in  rest,  strike  spur,  suddenly  move. 
Meet  in  the  midst,  and  then  so  furiously 
Shock,  that  a  man  far-off  might  well  perceive, 
If  any  man  that  day  were  left  afield. 
The  hard  earth  shake,  and  a  low  thunder  of  arms. 

(Tennyson,  Lancelot  and  Elaine  453-459) 

Another  exceptional  use  of  pauses  is  that  in  Milton's 
line, 

Rocks,  caves,  lakes,  fens,  bogs,  dens,  and  shades  of  death 
55 


in  which  the  interruptions  to  the  normal  flow  of  the  Hne 
emphasize  the  impression  of  things  desolate  and  lifeless. 
These  are  extreme  examples.  The  treatment  of  the  pause 
in  a  number  of  other  passages  has  already  been  commented 
upon  in  the  discussion  of  blank  verse  and  of  the  heroic 
couplet. 

Besides  rhythm,  the  sounds  of  vowels  and  consonants 
are  often  used  with  imitative  or  suggestive  effect.  Tenny- 
son's lines, 

The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms. 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees, 

{The  Princess  vii) 

present  an  intricate  sound-pattern  of  vowels  and  con- 
sonants, selected  to  suggest  the  sounds  named: 

The  MOan  of  dOveS  in  IMMeMORial  eLMS, 
And  MURMURing  of  INNuMERaBLe  BeeS. 

(The  o  of  doves  and  the  first  e  of  innumerable  are  similar  to 
the  u  of  murmuring.) 

English,  like  other  languages,  has  plenty  of  words  di- 
rectly imitative  of  sound:  clash,  crash,  splash;  chirp, 
twitter;  hiss,  hush;  boom,  hoot,  roar.  Besides  these,  there 
are  words  like  moan,  shout,  and  cry,  probably  not  imitative 
in  their  origin,  which  are  equally  expressive,  and  seem 
equally  to  imitate  the  sounds  they  denote.  Even  the  in- 
dividual vowels  and  consonants  of  all  these  words  seem, 
for  the  moment,  to  have  imitative  force,  and  if  we  wish  to 
emphasize  the  effect  of  the  word,  we  incline  to  use  with  it 
others  that  duplicate  these  sounds.  Hence,  such  combi- 
nations of  words  as  "a  loud  howl,"  "wild  cries,"  "a  piercing 
shriek,"  "the  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms," 

Clang  battle-axe,  and  clash  brand!     Let  the  King  reign! 

Underlying  the  use  of  vowel  and  consonant  harmony  in 
verse  are  the  further  facts  that  we  tend  to  establish  as- 
sociations between  words  that  are  similar  in  sound,  and 
that  we  take  a  certain  pleasure  in  these  associations.  The 
popular  use  of  such  expressions  as  "to  have  and  to  hold," 

56 


"sink  or  swim,"  "make  or  break,"  "through  thick  and  thin," 
is  evidence  of  this.  Also,  the  association  between  the 
sounds  of  famihar  words  and  their  meaning  is  so  immediate 
that  we  are  apt  to  think  of  the  meaning  as  in  some  way 
actually  contained  in  the  sound,  although  we  know  that 
the  connection  between  sound  and  meaning  is  purely  a 
convention.  The  word  sweet  seems  not  only  to  suggest 
sweetness,  but  to  have  sweetness  in  its  sound;  the  words 
rough  and  harsh  seem  to  be  rough  and  harsh  in  themselves. 
There  are  also  differences  in  the  intrinsic  quality  of 
different  sounds.  Long  o,  oo,  and  au  are  deep  and  so- 
norous; short  e  and  i  are  relatively  thin  and  weak.  Some- 
thing may  be  added  to  the  expressiveness  of  a  word  when 
the  quality  of  its  principal  vowel  seems  to  accord  with  the 
meaning;  compare  the  words  noble,  glorious,  holy,  awful, 
with  trivial,  petty,  fickle,  miserable,  silly.  It  is  not  pre- 
tended that  the  sound  of  the  word  determines  its  conno- 
tation, but  only  that  by  a  happy  chance  the  one  may  re- 
inforce the  other.  Similarly  with  consonants.  Compared 
with  I,  m,  n,  and  r,  which  are  almost  as  resonant  as  vowels, 
the  unvoiced  consonants  k,  p,  t,f,  s,  th,  are  hard  and  harsh; 
when  they  come  together  the  combination  may  be  awkward 
to  pronounce.  From  all  these  considerations  arises  the 
power  of  vowel  and  consonant  combinations,  known  in 
this  use  as  tone  color,  to  sustain  and  emphasize  impres- 
sions of  physical  sensation  and  of  feeling. 

On  a  sudden  open  fly. 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound. 
The  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder,  that  the  lowest  bottom  shook 
Of  Erebus. 

{Paradise   Lost  II.   879-883) 

Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 
Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold. 

(On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont  1-2) 

57 


And  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 
Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw 

(Lycidas    123-1«4/ 

O  holy  Hope!  and  high  Humility, 

High  as  the  heavens  above! 
These  are  your  walks,  and  you  have  shew*d  them  me. 

To  kindle  my  cold  love. 

(Vaughan,  Beyond  the  Veil  13-16) 

And  many  a  nymph  who  wreathes  her  brows  with  sedge 
And  sheds  the  freshening  dew. 

(Collins,  Evening  25-26) 

When  France  in  wrath  her  giant-limbs  upreared 
And  with  that  oath  which  smote  air,  earth,  and  sea 
Stamped  her  strong  foot,  and  said  she  would  be  free 

Bear  witness  for  me,  how  I  hoped  and  feared! 

(Coleridge,   France  22-25) 

Bring  me  my  bow  of  burning  gold! 

Bring  me  my  arrows  of  desire! 
Bring  me  my  spear!     O  clouds,  unfold! 

Bring  me  my  chariot  of  fire! 

(Blake,    Milton) 

On    every   side 
More  horribly  the  multitudinous  streams 
Of  ocean's  mountainous  waste  to  mutual  war 
Rushed  in  dark  tumult  thundering,  as  to  mock 
The  calm  and  spangled  sky. 

(Shelley,   Alasior  340-344) 

At  the  mid  hour  of  night,  when  stars  are  weeping    I  Qy 
To  the  lone  vale  we  loved,  when  life  shone  warm  in  thine  ^ v « 
And  I  think  oft,  if  spirits  can  steal  from  the  region.-  .  f  air 
To  revisit  past  scenes  of  delight,  thou  wiit  come  tt>  nu  there 
And  tell  me  our  love  is  remember'd,  even  in  the  .-k> 

(Moore,  At  the  mid  hour  oj  night  1-5.) 

The  Sea  of  Faith 

Was  once,  too,  at  the  full,  and  round  earth's  shore 
Lay  like  the  folds  of  a  bright  girdle  furled. 
But  now  I  only  hear 
Its  melancholy,  long,  withdrawing  roar, 
58 


Retreating,  to  the  breath 

Of  the  night-wind,  down  the  vast  edges  drear 

And  naked  shingles  of  the  world. 

(Arnold,  Dover  Beach  21-28) 

When  the  hounds  of  spring  are  on  winter's  traces, 
The  mother  of  months,  in  meadow  and  plain, 

Fills  the  shadows  and  windy  places 
With  lisp  of  leaves  and  ripple  of  rain. 

And  the  brown  bright  nightingale  amorous 

Is  half  assuaged  for  Itylus, 

The  Thracian  ships  and  the  foreign  faces. 
The  tongueless  vigil,  and  all  the  pain. 

(Swinburne,  Aialanta  in  Calydon) 


EXERCISES 

I.  Describe  the  following  lines  with  respect  to  the  basic 
foot  and  the  number  of  feet: 

One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life 

Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name. 

Farewell,  rewards  and  fairies. 
Good  housewives  now  may  say. 

Music,  when  soft  voices  die, 
Vibrates  in  the  memory. 

Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers.? 
O  sweet  content! 

Out  of  the  golden  remote  wild  west  where  the  sea  without 

shore  is, 
Full  of  the  sunset,  and  sad  if  at  all  with  the  fulness  of  joy. 

II.  Describe  fully,  according  to  the  plan  given  in  Chap- 
ter III,  each  line  of  the  following  passage: 

About  him  exercised  heroic  games 

Th'  unarmed  youth  of  Heav*n;  but  nigh  at  hand 

Celestial  armoury,  shields,  helms,  and  spears. 

Hung  high,  with  diamond  flaming  and  with  gold. 

Thither  came  Uriel,  gliding  through  the  even 

On  a  sunbeam,  swift  as  a  shooting  star 

In  autumn  thwarts  the  night,  when  vapors  fir'd 

Impress  the  air,  and  shows  the  mariner 

From  what  point  of  his  compass  to  beware 

Impetuous  winds. 

{Paradise  Lost  IV.  551-560) 

III.  In  some  collection  of  poems,  as    The  Golden  Treas- 
ury, find  an  example  of  each  of  the  following  kinds  of  line : 

Iambic  trimeter,  tetrameter,  pentameter,  hexameter; 
Iambic  trimeter  ard  tetrameter  with  feminine  ending; 
Trochaic  tetrameter,  complete  and  catalectic; 
Anapestic  trimeter  and  tetrameter,  without  and  with  feminine 
ending. 

60 


IV.  Describe  the  stanza  of  the  following  poems: 

Waller,  Go,  lovely  rose; 

Herrick,   Corinnas  Maying,   To  Daffodils; 

Wordsworth,  The  Solitary  Reaper,  Ode  to  Duty; 

Shelley,    To  a  Skylark; 

Keats,  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn; 

Tennyson,    The  Palace  of  Art; 

Arnold,    The   Scholar   Gipsy; 

Swinburne,  The  Garden  of  Proserpine; 

Browning,  Love  Among  the  Ruins,  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  Epilogue  to 

Asolando; 
Kipling,  The  Feet  of  the  Young  Men,  Before  a  Midnight  Breaks 

in  Storm,  Recessional. 

V.  What  changes  (rearrangement,  omission,  addition, 
or  substitution)  will  make  iambic  pentameters  out  of  the 
following  lines? 

This  man  resolved  not  to  live  but  to  know. 

Let  the  curtains  fall;  wheel  the  sofa  round. 

True  ease  in  writing  comes  not  from  chance,  but  from  art. 

The  sun  is  couched,  and  the  sea-fowl  have  gone  to  rest. 

Colors  and  words  unknown  to  humanity. 

The  star  which  at  nightfall  comes  to  shine. 

VI.  From  Richard  III,  Julius  Caesar,  and  The  Tempest 
select  a  passage  each  to  illustrate  the  statement  made  in 
Chapter  IV  regarding  the  change  in  Shakespeare's  blank 
verse. 

VII.  What  is  the  relation  between  the  octave  and  the 
sestet  in  the  following  sonnets  of  Wordsworth.? 

Well  may'st  thou  halt,  and  turn  with  brightening  eye  (Misc. 
Sonnets  I.ii); 

It  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  free  (Misc.  Sonnets  I.xxx); 

Once  did  She  hold  the  gorgeous  east  in  fee  (National  Indepen- 
dence and  Liberty  I.  vi); 

Two  Voices  are  there;  one  is  of  the  sea  {National  Independence 
and  Liberty  I.  xii). 

VIII.  Point  out  in  detail  the  repetitions  of  vowels  and 
consonants  on  which  the  tone  color  of  one  of  the  passages 
at  the  end  of  Chapter  VI  depends,  and  show  what  prin- 
ciples stated  in  the  chapter  they  illustrate. 

61 


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